The Fall of HMS Prince
by Bill382
Summary: After the loss of his man o' war, a young Midshipman named Thomas McNally finds himself amongst the ranks of legendary pirates... and in battle against fearsome enemies.
1. Chapter 1: HMS Prince

Fog: either a mariner's worst nightmare, or his best friend. For Gerald Winston, Captain of the man o' war _HMS Prince_, the dense Caribbean mist was definitely the latter. The fog surrounding his vessel and crew provided them all with a natural camouflage; and gave the Prince an unnatural, ghostly appearance. Her dark sails, worn from exposure to the elements, only increased her menacing appearance. Any and all enemies of Britain hapless enough to enter the fog found themselves face to face with the mightiest warship in the Caribbean.

In January of 1715, Captain Winston was dispatched by the Admiralty to combat the growing pirate threat in the West Indies. That same day, Winston took command of the _Prince_, the best ship available. Outfitted with one hundred cannons, four mortars, and one dozen swivel guns, the _Prince_ was more than a match for any pirate ship. Few could stand up to her immense firepower. Fewer still could challenge her crew; a few hundred of the most hardened and experienced sailors, officers, and marines in the Royal Navy. Unfortunately, not all aboard were there by choice. One such young man was Midshipman Thomas McNally.

Having grown up in a poor Irish family, Thomas' father pushed him to join the Royal Navy in the hope of allowing his son to live a better life. Early on, Thomas enjoyed the life of a sailor, even working his way up to Midshipman. As time passed, however, Thomas grew resentful of the Navy's methods, not approving of the harsh discipline and strict hierarchy. Surely there was a better way of doing the job? The merchant navy wasn't known to be so unforgiving. Yet here he was, standing beside his Captain on the _Prince_'s quarterdeck.

"Bloody dull morning, Mr. McNally," Winston spoke up in a Yorkshire accent. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Thomas turned to face his Captain. Winston wore the standard uniform of a Royal Navy officer: boots, blue pants and jacket, and a small red cape over his left shoulder. His jacket was adorned with several medals, awarded for various deeds done in service to the Crown. A gold-hilted saber hung at his side. The man's face, weathered and hardened, spoke silently of his many years as a seafarer. To Thomas, Winston was a true man of the sea. With him, one couldn't help but feel like a pauper in the presence of a king.

"Indeed sir," Thomas replied rather meekly. "Not a single vessel sighted since yesterday, and she was flying English colors. Of course, this fog is not helping our cause."

"You never know who might stumble into this cloud. Nature doesn't discriminate. Fortunately, boy, we do."

The _Prince_ had been patrolling the waters south of Hispaniola for two weeks now. In that time, she had encountered five Spanish merchantmen, one French warship, six English merchantmen, and three pirate schooners. All three of those pirate vessels now rested on the sea floor, with several members of their compliment locked below deck aboard the man o' war. The next time the _Prince_ made port, those men would end up tried and hanged. Pirates who did not meet the hangman's noose died in battle, while others succumbed to disease. The lucky ones accepted a pardon from the King, and returned to honest living. Such was the fate of all those who preyed upon honest seafaring men.

"Sails! Starboard bow!" The shout came from a lookout perched on the mainmast.

"Acknowledged!" Winston shouted back. In response, he, Thomas, and the Officer of the Watch all drew their spyglasses and began scanning the horizon.

About twenty seconds passed before the three officers sighted the unknown vessel. Thomas spotted her first. Through the fog, Thomas clearly made out the rigging of a brig, about one hundred meters off. Her own starboard bow faced the Midshipman, standing on the _Prince_'s starboard quarter. Looking upwards at the unknown brig's mainmast, he made an effort to identify her flag.

It was black. In the center was a skull, itself surrounded by a strange triangular symbol.

Another pirate ship, Thomas thought.

Just then, billows of smoke jetted from the brig's hull, followed by a rapid series of thundering booms.

"DOWN!" Winston shouted. "All hands, down!"

Thomas threw himself to the deck. Cannonballs whistled overhead and smashed into the hull, sending splinters of timber into the air. Men cried out in surprise and in pain. One sailor fought to pull a wooden shard from his leg.

"Beat to Quarters!"

Upon hearing this, the marine bandsman sounded his drum. Men surged up from below decks, scurrying with purpose to their posts. Cannons were loaded, arms distributed, sails set, and decks sanded. Within a minute, _HMS Prince_ was ready for battle.

The hostile brig had passed astern of the man o' war. Winston ordered a hard turn to starboard, hoping to catch her in his own ship's broadside. He succeeded, and ordered a broadside fired at the pirate. The roar of forty-eight cannons firing at once shook across the sea. Clouds of smoke hung in the air around the warship. Gun crews rushed to reload their cannons. The broadside hit home, but the brig stayed afloat and, through Winston's spyglass, appeared relatively undamaged.

"Blast," he thought aloud. "She must have armor plating. Ready mortars!"

The mortar crews loaded and primed their weapons. Normally used against shore-based fortifications, the mortar was also an effective anti-ship weapon, particularly against larger vessels. Each mortar was loaded with a shell, primed with a fuse set to explode in midair. The resulting blast rained shrapnel and fire down onto an enemy ship's deck.

"Fire mortars!" Winston cried.

The din of mortar fire ripped across the deck. Smoke shot upwards from their gaping steel maws. Four explosions appeared over the pirate, but none appeared to inflict any damage. The mortars, simply put, had missed their target.

The brig altered course to port. As she came about, her pirate crew let loose another volley. Cannonballs smashed into her opponent's hull and rigging. Wood splinters flew about the ship. Pieces of line fell from the rigging and onto the deck. Screams of wounded men echoed up from the gun decks. Immediately following this latest broadside, Thomas spotted vertical pillars of smoke shoot up from the brig's bow. Two explosions thundered overhead.

"Captain! She's got mortars!"

"I noticed, Mr. McNally!" Winston spat.

Both vessels altered course to port, with the brig aiming her bow ahead of the man o' war. Two cannons mounted on her bow let fly, sending chain shot into her enemy's forward rigging. The forward jib was torn loose and fluttered uselessly in the breeze. Men working at the bow moved quickly to secure it. The brig continued to charge straight at the mighty man o' war, like David challenging Goliath. It was then that Thomas noticed a most unusual fixture on the pirate ship's bow… a steel ram. A ram! Those were obsolete in the Royal Navy. In this day and age, a man was as likely to see a king's ship outfitted with a ram as he was a bridal gown on his commanding officer. Perhaps these pirates had fallen behind the times. If that was the case, this battle should end in favor of the _HMS Prince_ and her crew. Or so Thomas hoped…

The brig was now no more than fifty yards from the man o' war's hull. Winston ordered another starboard broadside fired at the pirate vessel. Again the din of cannon fire rang in Thomas' ears and filled his nose with acrid smoke. The ship rolled noticeably to port when the guns roared. The brig took damage, but kept coming, her solid steel ram aimed directly at the man o' war's midships.

"Brace for collision!" shouted the Captain.

Thomas knelt down on one knee and clung to the quarterdeck's starboard rail. He stole a glance at the incoming pirate ship. She did indeed have armor. Copper plating, normally used to protect just a vessel's underside, instead coated her entire hull, right up to the rails. The brig was now so close, Thomas could distinguish individual men on her main deck. Most were raggedly dressed (much like the crewmen aboard his own ship), and carried weapons at their sides. They too appeared braced for the impending collision. Her helmsman was crouched down low behind the ship's wheel.

The brig's ram struck home. Both vessels shook violently from the impact. Thomas himself was nearly thrown to the deck, while several others lost their footing. The force from the collision caused the pirate brig to recoil away from the man o' war. Her ram had failed to penetrate her enemy's hull, much to her captain's displeasure. While the man o' war's crew got back on their feet, the brig once again altered course to port, passing astern of her opponent.

As she did so, a third volley erupted from her cannons, this one aimed at her enemy's port side. This broadside crashed into the _Prince_'s stern, shattering the windows leading to the officer's quarters. Fires broke out in those same quarters. Down below, men rushed to extinguish the flames, enduring heat and inhaling smoke.

"Heavy shot, that was!" Winston remarked. "Clever bastard. Thomas, go below and put out those fires! Take whomever you need with you."

Thomas felt a feeling of dread rise within him. Heavy shot consisted of regular cannonballs heated red hot before loading. Heating the shot allowed it to cause shrapnel damage then, once it settled, set fire to an enemy ship. As the Midshipman scampered off the quarterdeck, he stole a glimpse at the pirate brig, now off to port with her stern facing the man o' war. The nameplate on her stern was clearly visible.

It read _Jackdaw_.

Thomas hurried down a ladder and into the ship's tween decks. He made his way through the upper gun deck, where organized chaos reigned. Gun crews swiftly worked to reload their weapons, while others stood waiting for an order to fire. Several cannons were unmanned. Why abandon those guns during combat? Their crews had been allocated to firefighting. On his way aft, Thomas relieved two more gun crews, ordering them to join in the firefighting effort.

The officers quarters, located just forward of the captain's cabin, were ablaze. Flames licked the wooden decks and bulkheads while smoke billowed through the hull and out the broken stern windows. The whole stern baked with heat. Several sailors and marines were already battling the blaze. Water was being pumped up from the bilges by one team, and tossed onto the fire by another. Mr. Cromwell, a marine lieutenant, directed the operation.

"Mr. Cromwell!" Thomas shouted over the roar of the flames. "What's the situation?"

"It's a damn mess, Mr. McNally!" Cromwell shouted back. "The fire is spreading its way forward. Already it's spread past the main cabins. If it reaches the aft powder magazines, this fight is finished!"

"Understood! I'll inform the Captain."

Thomas began making his way back to the quarterdeck. As he did so, the ship lurched to starboard, followed by the din of cannon fire. Another broadside had been unleashed on the pirate ship. Had it been enough to stop her? Not likely. Clearly she had endured combat far worse than this, and her captain had thus far proved a shrewd naval tactician. One more volley could not do the job on its own.

He emerged onto the main deck, finding it still abuzz with activity. The pirate brig was now off to port, within hailing distance. Already both crews were firing swivel guns and muskets at each other. Finally Thomas reached the quarterdeck and ran to Winston's side.

"Captain," he began, " the fire is spreading forward and-"

The ship jarred once again, knocking both Thomas and Winston off balance. This sudden movement came not from cannon fire, but from a collision. The _Jackdaw_'s starboard bow had connected with the _Prince_'s port bow. Another ramming attempt? Thomas quickly rose to his feet planning to assess the situation. The answer landed next to him, in the form of a grappling hook.

"They're making an effort to board us, Mr. McNally," the Captain spoke, already back on his feet with his saber drawn. "All hands, repel boarders! Send these devils back to hell!"

Drawing his own smallsword, Thomas quickly saw what the pirates were doing. Several heaving lines, with grappling hooks at one end, had been tossed over by the pirate crew when the two vessels drew close. Groups of pirates now heaved in on those lines, drawing the ships together. An advance boarding party had crossed over when the ships collided. A melee had then ensued at the Prince's bow. The sounds of combat - steel striking steel, pistols discharging, men shouting - carried across the deck.

Before either Thomas or Winston could cross the deck to join in the melee, a pirate landed on the quarterdeck ahead of them. The pirate turned to face the two men, sporting a menacing grin across his scarred, weathered face. Unlike the other pirates they had encountered, this man wore robes of some kind, colored blue and white, with a red officer's sash tied around his waist. His arms and torso were covered by strips of leather, stitched together as patchwork armor. A pair of pistols were holstered across his chest. Two more hung at his side, along with a pair of cutlasses. The pirate drew his cutlasses and slowly approached Captain Winston.

"You there," he said with a Welsh accent. "You must be commander of this legendary ship. I am Edward Kenway, captain of the _Jackdaw_."

"Captain Gerald Winston of His Majesty's Ship _Prince_," Winston replied, returning the introduction.

"Greetings, Captain. Lay down your arms, and no further harm shall be done."

"You know I can't do that, pirate. You are an enemy of the Crown and a criminal."

"This doesn't have to be hard, mate."

Ignoring Kenway, Winston swung his saber at the man. Kenway blocked the blow with his left cutlass and swung his second blade downwards. Winston dodged this blow and attacked again, only to get stabbed in the waist by Kenway, causing him to fall on his back and drop his saber. Thomas leapt forward and swung his smallsword at Kenway's right side, hoping to catch him unaware. Instead, Kenway deflected this blow with his right cutlass, turned towards Thomas, and buried his left cutlass into Thomas' shoulder. Thomas screamed in pain, dropped his smallsword, and fell to the deck, clutching the wound with his good arm. He struggled to sit up, but managed to do so.

"Foolish boy," Kenway remarked, looking at Thomas. Behind Kenway, Winston had stood back up and was drawing his pistol. Kenway looked over his shoulder, spotted this, drew one of his own pistols, and shot Winston in the chest. He collapsed back to the deck, lifeless.

Thomas also fell on his back, his strength draining from him. He felt the heat from the fires raging below decks. What would happen to him now? The ship was afire, the Captain dead, and the battle likely lost. Would he die here aboard the _Prince_? If his wound wasn't treated fast, he'd end up in Davy Jones' Locker. How could he escape from this?

Kenway sheathed his cutlasses, picked up Winston's saber, walked up to Thomas, and looked the wounded Midshipman in the eye.

"You are injured, lad," he said calmly. "We have a surgeon on board that can dress your wound. However, such services are not offered to those outside of our crew. If you wish to live..." Kenway offered Thomas the late Captain's saber. "...you must join us."

For a second, Thomas hesitated. He was about to throw in his lot with a crew of brigands. He knew that their lives were fast and often short. Many pirates ended their careers at the gallows; a fate which surely awaited Thomas if he joined the _Jackdaw_'s crew. But if he refused, then he would almost certainly die. Even if he survived, he would most likely end up back with the Navy. That meant returning to the meager pay and crushing discipline that he despised. Then there would be no escape.

That's it, Thomas thought. Join the pirates, forsake the Navy. It's my best chance.

Just before slipping into unconsciousness, Thomas reached up and took hold of the saber's hilt.


	2. Chapter 2: The Golden Vanity

When Thomas came to, he found himself lying in a bed. He was on his back, with his left side facing a bulkhead, and his right faced the interior of what must be a ship's lower deck. His shoulder hurt, and it pained him to move his right arm. Despite that, Thomas managed to sit up, albeit with a good amount of effort. Looking at the wound on his shoulder, Thomas saw that it was neatly stitched closed. His jacket hung on a peg across from him, with his boots beneath it. With the jacket hung Thomas' sword belt. Secured to his belt were two swords: his own smallsword, and Captain Winston's personal saber.

Footsteps sounded nearby, heading towards him. Seconds later, a strange woman entered the room. She stood tall, had the figure of a dancer, and shining red hair, which she wore loose. Her face suggested that she was about the same age as Thomas. Around her neck hung four necklaces. Instead of a dress, this young woman wore men's clothing, complete with buckled shoes, green jacket, and sword belt. From her belt dangled both a pistol and a cutlass. Her striking blue eyes met Thomas' own green ones.

"Good, you're awake," she said with an Irish accent.

Thomas, taken by her beauty, felt himself at a loss for words. "Where am I?" He managed to ask.

"Aboard the good ship _Jackdaw_. You took quite a hit during our tangle with the _Prince_. Our surgeon Mr. King fixed you up right. What's your name?"

"Thomas McNally, midshipman."

"Greetings Thomas. I'm Anne. Anne Bonny. Please get dressed. The Captain will want to speak with you."

Thomas made an effort to stand up. As he did so, a sharp pain pierced through his injured shoulder. The former midshipman groaned with discomfort.

"If you're hurting, there's a bottle of rum beside your bed. Should numb the pain a wee bit."

Thomas followed Anne's advice and took a swig from the bottle. The taste was much stronger than he anticipated. This wasn't the watered-down grog common amongst the navy, but straight rum. And the ship's entire crew had access to this stuff? If there was one aspect of their lifestyle that pirates certainly lived up to, it was their affinity for liquor.

After corking the bottle, Thomas then pulled on his shirt, pants, boots, jacket, and sword belt while Anne looked on. His belt, now holding two blades instead of just one, felt alien to him, as if it belonged to another man. Surely he would grow used to it? One could only hope so. While Thomas may have looked like an officer of the Royal Navy, he sure didn't _feel_ like an officer. In fact, he didn't even feel like much of a seaman. What was going through his mind? Doubt? Perhaps the captain of this ship could provide some answers.

"Alright ma'am," he said when finished dressing, "I'm ready to see Captain Kenway."

"Please, it's Anne," she instructed. "Follow me. Edward's up on deck."

Anne led Thomas through the _Jackdaw_'s crew quarters. Inspecting the area, he noticed that this vessel appeared to have a huge amount of berthing for a ship her size. The crew must be at least twice the standard number. Thomas saw the advantages to having such a large crew. Having more sailors (or rather, pirates) aboard meant there was less work per man. Additionally, the crew would be able to take casualties in a pitched battle. If a man fell in combat, another man could replace him. On the other hand, a large crew might require the ship to make port more frequently, in order to take on additional rations. Such a necessity could prove easy to deal with here in the West Indies, where havens were often plentiful and close together.

The two ascended a ladder and emerged out on the _Jackdaw_'s main deck. Thomas squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Looking around, he saw that the deck was filled with men. Some were working, others drinking, some tending to their personal arms, even some singing shanties. Thomas recognized "Randy Dandy Oh," which had been a favorite amongst the crew of the _Prince_.

Thomas followed Anne up the port side stairs leading to the quarterdeck. Sure enough, there was Captain Edward Kenway, standing at the helm of his _Jackdaw_, wearing the same robes as he had during the fight aboard the _HMS Prince_.

"Edward," Anne spoke up. "One of our new recruits here to speak with you."

"Thank you, Quartermaster," Kenway replied, looking at her. "That's all for now."

Anne took her place on Kenway's right side.

Kenway then looked at Thomas. "Right then," he said, still steering the vessel. "You're that midshipman who joined us during that fight with the British man o' war, correct?"

"Aye Captain," Thomas replied, a bit unsure of himself. "That was me. Where is the _Prince_? What happened to her crew?"

"The _Prince,_ I'm afraid, sank. Those fires gutted most of the hull. Too much damage for a salvage effort. We used what timbers we could from her to repair the _Jackdaw_, then scuttled the old lady."

"What of the crew?"

"About a dozen of them, you included, joined us. A Lieutenant Cromwell also signed on. The survivors that refused to sail with us are off drifting in boats somewhere. Last we saw, they were making for Jamaica."

Thomas stood silent for a moment while a mixed emotion passed through his gut. While disappointed by the fate of the _Prince_'s crew, he was not upset by the ship's sinking. Besides, after so many victories over the past four years, their luck was bound to run out. Perhaps Winston had grown cocky, forgetting that there was always someone tougher than him. It mattered little. Thomas knew that nothing could be done about the _Prince_ now. What mattered now concerned Thomas and his work here aboard the _Jackdaw_.

"How did you end up in the King's Navy?" Kenway continued.

Thomas snapped back to the present. "My father's bidding," he answered. "He wanted me to live a more free life, away from the drudgery of farming. I enlisted, and ended up aboard the _HMS Prince_. Sailing suited me, but not naval discipline."

"It didn't suit me, either. Nor did the meager pay. I started off as a privateer, and now I'm a pirate. As is Anne, here, and now you. What's your name, lad?"

"Thomas, sir. Thomas McNally."

"Well Thomas, do you know how to navigate?"

"Aye sir. I learned the basics as a midshipman."

"Good. You might prove your worth after all."

Quartermaster Anne Bonny, who'd been quietly scanning the horizon during this exchange, spoke up again. "Edward, there's a ship off to port. A brig, by the looks of it." Anne examined the unknown ship again through a spyglass. "Looks like she has a starboard list."

"I see her," was Kenway's response. The _Jackdaw_ altered course to port, towards the stricken vessel. Upon closer examination, Thomas saw that she was indeed a brig, flying Spanish colors, and listing heavily to starboard. There wasn't any strong wind to blow her over, nor there any signs of battle damage on her hull or rigging. What was causing her to take on water? Rot? Around the brig drifted two boats, both filled with men. The crew had already abandoned ship.

Kenway ordered the sails hove-to as the ship drew near the sinking brig. At the same time, one of the Spanish boats rowed up alongside the Jackdaw's port side midship. Kenway strolled over to meet the boat, and Thomas followed.

Kenway leaned over the rail and stared down into the boat. "What happened here?" He asked.

A portly man, middle-aged and wearing the yellow uniform of a Spanish military officer, stood up. "We don't know," He answered in slow, broken English. "Just three hours ago, we were chasing down an English merchantman. Then we started taking on water, and gave up the pursuit. We found a dozen leaks, but not all of them. Sadly the good ship _Lanfranco_ is now lost to us."

"Where was this merchantman heading?"

"South, towards Jamaica."

"Thanks, mate. Good luck." Kenway turned to leave.

"Wait!" The Spanish officer shouted. "Are you going to allow us aboard?"

"I doubt you'll want to sail with us, mate."

"And why is that?"

"We're pirates," Thomas informed him.

The officer paused a moment, looking at his crew. "Very well," he finally said, returning his gaze to Kenway. "Be on your way."

Leaving behind the sinking _Lanfranco_, the _Jackdaw_ made sail and set a southerly course in pursuit of the English merchant vessel. If the Spanish had been pursuing her, Thomas reasoned, then she must be traveling with a hold filled with cargo. There was nothing to gain by capturing an empty vessel, other than the ship itself. Going for a loaded vessel yielded a ship, crew, and cargo: a much more valuable haul. An hour later Thomas, standing near the bowsprit, spotted someone bobbing in the waves.

"Man overboard!" He called aft. "Starboard bow!"

Upon hearing this, Kenway ordered the sails hove-to, and the ship's whaleboat made ready. Thomas accompanied Kenway in the boat, while the former Lt. Cromwell and three others manned the oars. Together Kenway and Thomas hauled the stranded man, who'd survived by clinging to a piece of driftwood, into the boat. What they found surprised them all. The man overboard was not a man at all, but a boy. By the looks of him, the lad couldn't be more than nine, ten, or eleven years old. He was short in height, had a full head of black hair, and wore a brown shirt with matching trousers. The boy was exhausted, breathing heavily, and his skin had shriveled. Clearly he'd been in the water a long time.

"We need to give this boy some rest, Captain" Thomas advised.

"Agreed. Bring us back to the _Jackdaw_, lads."

While the boat returned to its mother ship, the young boy attempted to speak. "That... bastard..." he managed to say in a near whisper.

Thomas heard him. "What was that?" he asked. The boy didn't speak again.

Upon returning to the Jackdaw, Thomas took the boy below, lied him down in his own bed, and gave him bread and water. After a brief nap, the child readily ate the bread biscuits and drank the water while Thomas sat down beside him. Satisfied that the boy was nourished, Thomas decided to attempt conversation with him.

"What's you name, lad?" Thomas asked.

"Patrick," the boy replied, looking at Thomas. "My name is Patrick. I am, or at least was, the cabin boy of the schooner _Golden Vanity_."

"Pleased to meet you, Patrick. I'm Thomas."

_Golden Vanity_? The name was in English. The Spanish brig _Lanfranco_ had been pursuing an English merchant vessel. "Was your ship a merchantman?" Thomas continued. "An English one?"

"Yes, she was."

"And if you were her loyal cabin boy, how did you end up adrift?"

Patrick cleared his throat. "That sir, is quite a story. For days, a Spanish brig had been chasing us. She had lots of cannons. We couldn't hope to beat her in a fight. Our captain, James Ericson, offered his daughter's hand in marriage to any man who could sink the enemy ship."

"And you took his offer?"

"Aye sir. I swam out to that ship, and drilled twenty holes in her side." Patrick pulled an auger from his belt and showed it to Thomas.

An auger? This lad sank a Spanish warship with just a damn _auger_?! Thomas let out a hearty laugh. "I can't believe you sank an entire ship with just a goddamn carpenter's tool!" Thomas remarked.

"Nor I," Patrick admitted.

"We encountered the brig that was pursuing your schooner. _Lanfranco_ was her name. When we left her, she was sliding beneath the waves. But if you succeeded, why aren't you back aboard the Vanity, awaiting to meet your future bride?"

"When the Spaniard started sinking, the _Vanity_ set full sail and fled."

That sounded rotten. "So they left you for dead?"

"Aye, sir. So it would seem. I want Ericson to get what he deserves."

Just then, Captain Kenway entered the cabin. "Everything alright here?" he asked.

"Aye sir," Thomas answered, standing up to face him. "Our castaway has a story that you must hear."

Following a brief introduction, Patrick recited his story to the attentive Edward Kenway. Predictably, the pirate captain laughed upon hearing of Patrick's feat with the auger. Thomas informed Edward that the foundering Spanish brig they'd encountered was the same ship that Patrick sabotaged. Edward remembered that even the _Lanfranco_'s crew didn't know why their ship was taking on water. Drilling through the hull with an auger was indeed possible, if a bit impractical. Kenway then questioned Patrick about the _Golden Vanity_. Hull color, sail arrangement, last known heading... any information that could be used to identify the schooner. Satisfied with the information Patrick had provided, Kenway then turned his attention to Thomas.

"Thomas," he commanded, "you and Mr. Cromwell take the next watch. We're looking for a schooner flying English colors. She has a blue hull, white sails, gold rails, and was last seen sailing South. Keep a lookout for her, and send for me if you find her."

"Aye aye, Captain. It shall be done."

Thomas and former Lieutenant John Cromwell stood the twelve-to-four watch on the _Jackdaw_'s quarterdeck. John took the helm while Thomas kept a lookout for the _Vanity_. If what Patrick said was true, and the _Vanity_'s captain indeed abandoned, him, than Thomas sympathized with the cabin boy. Like Patrick, he wanted to see justice done. Meanwhile John, who had never before steered a ship, struggled to keep the _Jackdaw_ on a steady heading. At times he was off course by as much as ten degrees, and Thomas kept needing to correct him. After two hours of watchstanding, Thomas finally spotted sails on the horizon ahead of the ship. He raised a spyglass and focused them. She was indeed a schooner, and matched Patrick's description.

"John," Thomas said to his helmsman. "I believe we have found her. Please rouse Mr. Kenway. I'll take the helm."

Thomas took the wheel while John fetched the Captain. Ten seconds later, they both joined him on the quarterdeck, along with Patrick.

Kenway took the spyglass and examined the schooner himself. She was a small vessel, no more than one hundred feet in length. Her rigging carried two lateen sails, a jib, and one square topsail. "Aye, that's her," Kenway said. "Ripe for the taking." He turned to face Thomas, lowering the spyglass. "Mr. McNally, tell us; how does one ship take another as a prize?"

Thomas thought for a moment. "First," he began, "we raise our colors, displaying our hostility. If the target doesn't heave-to, we fire warning shots from the forward chasers."

"And if they still won't comply...?"

"We get within hailing distance and demand their surrender. Finally, if they remain stubborn, we engage in combat, provided they didn't already attack us."

"Well said," Kenway remarked. "Patrick, come with me."

Kenway walked off the quaterdeck and stood atop one of the eleven cannons on the port side of the main deck. Patrick stood beside him. "Listen up, me trumps," he called out to his shipmates, who all turned to face him. "Ahead of us is a schooner whose captain left this lad..." He pointed at Patrick. "...to die, after he risked his life protecting his mates. Are we going to allow such a backstabber to walk away?!"

"No!" the crew shouted back.

"All in favor of taking that schooner, shout 'aye!'"

"AYE!"

"To your posts! Prepare for a raid!"

While the crew readied themselves and their ship for action, Kenway and Patrick returned to the quarterdeck. Anne, hearing the commotion, joined them. Thomas remained at the helm, while John manned the swivel gun on the quarterdeck's port side.

"Bring us in close, Thomas," Kenway ordered.

The _Jackdaw_ was now directly behind the _Vanity_, about two hundred yards off, and closing the distance fast. Already she was within range of the _Jackdaw_'s forward cannons (chaser guns). Despite the _Jackdaw_'s black flag being clearly visible, the schooner remain at full sail. Kenway noticed these facts, and acted. He ordered the chaser gun crews to load chainshot. Chainshot - two cannonballs joined by a chain - was extremely effective at crippling a ships rigging, making it the ideal tool for reeling in a prize.

"Fire chasers!" Kenway barked.

The four chaser guns let fly, belching smoke and steel. Two splashes shot up near the _Vanity_'s hull, indicating misses. A wide gash appeared in the schooner's mainsail, having been torn apart by a lucky chainshot hit. Immediately her speed began to dwindle. On deck, her crew prepared for the worst by readying weapons and saying silent prayers. The pirates would surely catch them now.

The _Jackdaw_, under Thomas' careful steeing, maneuvered alongside the _Vanity_, leaving the schooner to her own port side. Knowing that death was upon them, the _Vanity_'s crew exchanged musket and pistol fire with the pirates, making a last-ditch effort to defend themselves. Both crews screamed in defiance at each other. A booming noise sounded to Thomas' left. John had fired his swivel cannon and now hastily reloaded the weapon.

"Drag them to their doom!" Kenway ordered, his voice filled with bravado.

The pirates heaved the grappling lines over the schooner and dragged the two vessels together, close as lovers. Crewmen on the _Vanity_ hacked away at the grapples with cutlasses and boarding axes, but to no avail. By the time even one grapple fell loose, the _Jackdaw_'s pirate crew was already leaping aboard. Thomas, dismissed from the helm, joined in the wave of men storming the _Vanity_. He jumped from the quarterdeck and landed heavily on the schooner's main deck, just aft of her wheel. The schooner's helmsman released the wheel, drew an ax, and faced Thomas. Rising to his feet, Thomas drew his two blades - keeping the smallsword in his left and the saber in his right - and slashed the man across the chest before he could lower his weapon. Another sailor charged Thomas, with a cutlass readied and fury in his eyes. Thomas simultaneously blocked the cutlass and dropkicked the man, who fell hard on his back.  
As Thomas raised his swords to deliver a killing blow, the sailor's expression turned from rage to terror. The man threw up his arms.

"Surrender!" He cried desperately.

Thomas froze mid-swing. Around them, the schooner's remaining crew all laid down their arms. The fight was over. The _Golden Vanity_ now belonged to the pirates.

After sheathing his weapons, the young pirate assisted his former opponent to his feet. The sailor wore a dark green jacket with a white ruffled shirt and tri-cornered hat, suggesting he held a position of importance. Could this man be the Captain? Not likely. The man's neatly shaven face hinted that he was only a couple of years older than Thomas.

"Thank you for sparing me," said the man, shaking Thomas' hand. He spoke English with a hint of Italian in his speech. "What's your name?"

"Thomas," the pirate responded. "And you are...?"

"Aldo Gaiani."

"Pleasure to meet you, Aldo."

The pirates were now rounding up the surviving sailors, putting them on their knees in a cluster amidships. Thomas advised Aldo to join them, which he did.

Captain Kenway stepped onto the schooner's deck, with Patrick right beside him. The two strode right up to the captured sailors. "Gentlemen," He addressed the captives, "Do not be alarmed. I am Captain Kenway, and this is my crew. During our travels we picked up this young lad who, by his account, sank a Spanish brig that threatened your ship. Then was left for dead. Where is your Captain?"

"The Captain is dead," one sailor spoke up. He pointed at Thomas. "That man killed him."

The helmsman, Thomas thought. Captain Ericson was manning the helm.

Kenway turned his head towards Thomas. "Did you kill him, Thomas?"

"Aye sir. He was at the wheel when I found him."

"Good. One less problem, then. Now my friend, what shall we do with this ship and her crew?"

Thomas assessed their options. They could scuttle the ship, or add her to a fleet. Keeping it seemed the more sensible option. He'd choose that, if Kenway allowed it. What about the crew? Killing them, while an option, was senseless. They'd gain nothing by slaughtering captives. Recruit them? Yes! That made sense. Any who refused to join could be set ashore later. As for the cargo... the _Jackdaw _would take it.

"We'll plunder the cargo," Thomas replied, "recruit as many of this vessel's crew as we can, and keep the ship."

"Agreed. Well lads, get to work. Thomas, you will take command of this vessel. Put the captives ashore, then sail to the harbor at Great Inagua. Take John Cromwell as your Quartermaster."

"Aye aye, Captain."

The pirates opened the _Vanity_'s cargo hatches and started transferring the cargo over to the _Jackdaw_. Several of the schooner's old crew joined in, having decided to sail under the black flag. Kenway ordered those who did not join the pirates locked below in the _Vanity_'s forepeak, to keep them from interfering with the operation. Among the men who joined the pirates was Aldo Gaiani. He approached Thomas with a look of uncertainty on his face.

"So that's it, Thomas?" Aldo asked. "We're now pirates?"

Thomas paused, reflecting on his experience thus far. In less than two days, he'd survived an encounter with Edward Kenway, deserted from the Royal Navy, saved a little boy's life, and gained his first command. A fine piece of work, by any standards. Above all, Thomas felt proud of his new life. And why shouldn't he?

"Yes, Aldo" Thomas replied, smiling up at the _Jackdaw_'s black flag. "We are pirates."


	3. Chapter 3: Great Inagua

Waves parted and spray foamed as the sleek wooden hull of a schooner sliced through the rich Caribbean waters. The brisk westerly breeze propelled her swiftly towards her destination. Down on her main deck, men milled about performing various acts of work and leisure. This magnificent scene could be summed up with a single word: _freedom_. But mere days ago, this ship and most of her crew were anything _except_ free. Rather, they'd been slaves to a shady plantation owner and a backstabbing Captain. Then, the _Jackdaw_ and her pirate crew arrived. They stormed aboard, killed the Captain, and claimed the vessel as their own. This schooner, the _Golden Vanity_, was now a pirate ship, home to free men.

Within the _Golden Vanity_'s hull, Thomas McNally sat in the late Captain Ericson's personal cabin. He was rummaging through the ship's charts, cargo manifests, even the Captain's personal letters. If mere chance had led the pirates to a prize such as this, Thomas reasoned, then certainly a little research into this vessel's history could help them gain more plunder. As Thomas examined the charts, he was quick to notice a series of courses plotted to and from Cat Island. Similarly, the schooner's manifests frequently listed sugar as a cargo item. This could only mean that the _Golden Vanity_ had been transporting sugar for a plantation on Cat Island. But who owned this plantation? Thomas began reading the Captain's letters, most of which were exchanges between Ericson and his daughter, Alexa. Others were addressed to a "Lord Bancroft." The name meant nothing to Thomas, but perhaps Aldo Gaiani, First Mate of this schooner, might know more.

As if on cue, Aldo entered the cabin. "Thomas," he said, "We've arrived at Great Inagua."

Thomas stood up and faced his shipmate. "Great news, Aldo. Before we go on deck, does the name 'Lord Bancroft' mean anything to you?"

"Aye. Lord Damion Bancroft. The man's an Admiral in the British Royal Navy, and a wealthy plantation owner. Most of the cargo we hauled was for him."

"Interesting. Perhaps we could patrol the waters around his plantation? Anyway, let's get ourselves topside."

The two pirates made their way up from the hold and onto the _Golden Vanity_'s main deck. Thomas took the helm. Before them stood the high cliffs that surrounded Great Inagua's natural harbor on two sides, with a serene village on the third side, and ocean on the fourth. From where Thomas stood, the place appeared tranquil and picturesque: a perfect place to rest and resupply.

As the schooner sailed into the harbor, Thomas immediately noticed four other vessels moored just offshore. They consisted of two frigates, one brigantine, and a colossal man o' war. All four vessels flew black flags and bristled with cannon. Sailors worked about their decks and rigging, likely preparing for voyages. When the _Vanity_ drew close to the man o' war, Thomas noticed that her original nameplate (much longer than the new one) had been removed, and replaced by a painted timber bearing her new name - _Champion_.

"D'you think all these ships belong to Kenway?" Aldo asked, referring to the swashbuckler who introduced them to piracy.

"I think so," Thomas replied. "Looks like master Kenway's more than a mere Captain, but a bloody _Admiral_."

Maneuvering around the anchored ships, Thomas ordered the schooner brought to half sail. The crew lowered the foresail and furled the jibs, while John Cromwell, Thomas' Quartermaster, oversaw the operation. As the little ship approached the L-shaped pier, heaving lines went ashore, followed by hawsers. At last the _Golden Vanity_ made port.

Immediately the restless crew ran ashore, eager to spend their pay on women and rum. John Cromwell joined them. Shortly after they departed, Captain Edward Kenway strode up the gangway.

"Gentlemen," he addressed Thomas and Aldo, "welcome to Great Inagua. What do you think of our little paradise?"

Thomas looked around at the village and beach, taking in the sights. All around he saw men drinking, fighting, whoring, and gambling, with no authority to step in and stop them. To Thomas, it looked like London's poor districts relocated to a tropical island.

"It's... quite the place," Thomas admitted. "It looks as if God picked up Gin Alley and placed it here."

"Aye, but unlike Gin Alley, we've no King sitting his bottom in a palace right next door to us."

"Captain, while you're here, I've uncovered some documents that might lead us to future loot."

Thomas led Kenway and Aldo back below to the main cabin. Kenway examined Ericson's letters along with the ship's charts, a look of concentration on his face. He studied them with the same curiosity that Thomas had. But unlike Thomas, Kenway did so with greater care and patience, having conducted similar examinations over the course of his career as a pirate.

"Ah, Admiral Damion Bancroft," he said at last. "I know of this man." Thomas, meet me at the manor in one hour."

"What manor, Captain?"

"The only one in town. It's on the cliff east of the village. There's a stone staircase leading up to it." Kenway turned to face Aldo. "And you there, Mr..."

"Gaiani," Aldo finished for him.

"Join us for that meeting. Understood?"

"Aye, Captain."

"Good. See you soon, then."

Kenway then departed the schooner, documents in hand. Thomas and Aldo soon left as well, strolling together along the pier. Ahead of them, the brig Jackdaw lay at her moorings. Past the brig, at the end of the pier, was a tavern. Outside the tavern was a deck, filled with groups of men and women, drinking liquor and playing games of chance. A band playing traditional folk songs stood at the shore end of the deck. Both pirates ordered drinks from the bar, and took a seat at an empty table. They sat in silence for several minutes, until Aldo spoke up.

"How large do you think Kenway's fleet is?" Aldo asked, looking towards the harbor.

"Big enough to keep a steady revenue coming in," Thomas said, taking a sip of his rum. "Just look at the state of this village."

Aldo examined the town. For a pirate port, the buildings were in surprisingly good condition. No structure appeared dilapidated, neglected or in danger of collapsing. This could only mean that the town was regularly maintained. Kenway and his crew took care of their own.

Some time later, Thomas and Aldo made their way to Kenway's manor. A stone stairway to the east led them up the hill to Edward Kenway's private estate. The manor itself was relatively small, built from wood, with only one story. The gardens surrounding the building were in pristine condition. Upon entering the home, the two pirates found it decorated beautifully, filled with luxurious furnishings.

"Lads! In here."

The shout from Kenway led them into a room decorated more plainly than the rest of the manor. This room contained chests, a wheel, a hammock, model ships, and various other seafaring relics. Kenway and Bonny stood behind a table at the room's far end. The documents from the _Vanity _were laid out on the table itself.

Thomas and Aldo joined the pirates. "Boys," Kenway began, "I believe we're on to something. As you know, Bancroft is both an Admiral and plantation owner. He is also a close associate of Governor Woodes Rogers, and a Templar. Do either of you know of the Templars?"

"Weren't they some kind of knightly order?" Aldo asked.

"Aye, that they were," Anne chimed in. "But they're more than that. The Templars are an order that wants to enslave mankind, using powerful relics called 'Pieces of Eden,' built by a prehistoric race. They believe enslaving us will bring peace on Earth."

"Another group," Edward continued, "seeks to prevent the Templars from succeeding. They are called Assassins."

"So you and Anne are Assassins?" Thomas asked of Kenway.

"Aye. Now, judging by these letters, Admiral Bancroft may possess a Piece of Eden. If so, we are obliged to relieve him of it. Thanks to you, we know where to begin our search: the Bancroft plantation on Cat Island."

Aldo spoke up. "I know the place," he said, pointing to its location on a chart. "It will be well defended. You'll find armed guards patrolling the grounds, a battery, and at least one ship at anchor off the coast nearby."

Kenway took note of this information. "Then we'll launch a joint attack. Thomas, you and I will sneak into the manor and hunt for the relic. The _Jackdaw_'s crew shall pillage the plantation's warehouses. Mr. Gaiani, you and the _Vanity_'s crew will discreetly capture any vessels moored offshore. Any questions?"

Thomas and Aldo remained silent.

"Good. Anne, Mr. Gaiani, you're dismissed. Thomas, come with me."

While Aldo and Anne left the room, Kenway led Thomas to a bookcase. The pirate captain faced Thomas, looking him straight in the eye. "Thomas," he said rather softly, "I've seen your skills at work, in battle and in the chart room. You have lots of potential. Now, you know more about me than most of my crew. Therefore, I see no more harm in sharing one more secret with you."

Kenway heaved the bookcase aside, revealing a hidden stairway. Thomas followed Kenway down the stairs, which led into a basement. The basement itself was lined with weapon racks filled with all manner of pistols, muskets, and swords. A shelf nestled within the racks held the various outfits that Kenway had acquired over his career. Thomas spotted an officer's saber almost identical to his. After gaining permission from Kenway to keep the blade, Thomas unbuckled his smallsword, took the saber, and replaced the blade with his old smallsword. That sword, despite having been by Thomas' side for years, in a sense no longer belonged to him. It was the blade of a Midshipman, someone who obeyed the laws and customs of England. Thomas was such a man no longer.

The basement opened into a natural cavern. The cavern itself was stacked with treasure. Paintings, rugs, candlesticks, silverware, chests piled high with gold all filled the space. It was enough to make a man go mad, or a woman swoon.

"There," said Kenway. "Now you know the greatest secret of this place. Swear to me you will never speak of this to anyone."

"I swear it, Captain."

"Good lad. Doing so is punishable by death. Now see yourself out. Go enjoy some women and drink. Tomorrow, the work continues. We've got a plantation to raid."


	4. Chapter 4: Cat Island

The morning sun rose serenely over the village of Great Inagua. The inhabitants of the tiny town slept soundly, in their homes, on their ships, and on the beach. Spouses, lovers, and empty bottles lay at their sides. Cleaning up after the previous night was part of the morning routine down in Great Inagua, as young Thomas was about to find out.

The pirate awoke with a throbbing headache.

Where am I? Thomas thought to himself. Ah, in the captain's cabin aboard the _Vanity_. What about my clothing and weapons? Lord, they're strewn all over the cabin. Hey, who's jacket is that if it isn't mine? And those shoes? I must not be alone in here. Does that red hair belong to someone? Just who the hell is in this bed with me...?

Thomas pulled back the bedsheets. Asleep next to him was the shining, white, nude figure of Anne Bonny.

"What in name of the King happened last night?" Thomas asked under his breath.

Seemingly hearing this, Anne opened her eyes, fixing her gaze on the bewildered, embarrassed young man. She smiled at his confusion. It was clear to her that Thomas had been a virgin prior to last night.

"How did you - we - end up in here together?" Thomas asked of her, climbing out of bed.

"You invited me in," she replied. "In the midst of your drunken stupor, you offered to give me a 'tour' of your schooner. I knew right well what you wanted, so I went along with it."

Thomas admitted that yes, he wished to sleep with Anne, but never expected actually doing so. Unfortunately, he did not recall a single minute of the encounter. Oh, well. Perhaps it was for the better.

Just then a knock sounded at the cabin's door. After hastily pulling on his trousers, Thomas opened the door. Captain Kenway stood outside, fully dressed and not looking at all hungover.

"Good morning, Thomas," the Welshman greeted him. "Did you sleep well?"

Thomas returned the greeting. He then described to Kenway how his head ached, and that he'd woken up next to Kenway's own Quartermaster.

Kenway peered over Thomas' right shoulder, and spotted Anne lying naked on the bed. He laughed. "I trust she was good Company?"

"Erm... yes." Thomas replied. "Anyway, what brings you down here, Captain?"

"I need you to assemble your crew. We sail for Cat Island no later than noontime today."

"Aye aye, sir."

"Good lad. See to it."

As Kenway departed, Thomas continued dressing. He slid into his boots, pulled on his shirt and jacket, and strapped the leather sword belt about his waist. Leaving Anne on her own, he climbed up from the lower deck and out into the morning sun. Thomas found several men asleep on the main deck, snoozing amongst the rigging and guns like dogs after a long day's work. He gently roused them, instructing the men to locate their shipmates, then return aboard. Thomas then walked down to the sandy beach beside the pier. Like the schooner, he found numerous men asleep in the sand, on the grass, and even in a nearby haystack. The charred, smoldering remains of a bonfire lay piled on the beach, leaving a stench of ash in the air nearby. Amongst the dozing pirates on the beach was Thomas' own Quartermaster, John Cromwell.

Thomas woke John with a slight nudge from his boot to the sleeping man's left shoulder. John's brown eyes opened wide with surprise and alarm. He jumped hurriedly to his feet as if expecting an attack, even reaching for his cutlass.

"Easy, John!" Thomas exclaimed, grabbing John's sword arm. "It's just me."

John's facial expression relaxed as he recognized his Captain, and Thomas released his arm. "Oh, good morning Thomas," he said unsteadily, brushing the beach sand from his red marine's jacket. Thomas smelled alcohol on the young man's breath.

"Seems like you had a memorable evening, John."

"Actually Thomas, I remember very little of the night previous."

"Then consider yourself fortunate that your effects are still with you. Now, please get yourself back to the _Vanity_. We're preparing for sea this morning."

While John made his way back to the harbor, Thomas continued searching the beach for Mr. Aldo Gaiani. By now, most of those who'd fallen asleep on the beach had awoken, and were proceeding to go about their daily business. If Aldo was awake, Thomas reasoned, then surely he would report back to the ship once he was able.

As Thomas made his way back along the pier, someone called his name from the _Jackdaw_'s quarterdeck. Looking up, he saw that the voice belonged to Edward Kenway, who motioned him aboard. Likewise, Thomas boarded the armored brigantine. Already her crew was making ready for a voyage, with supplies being ferried into the hold, decks getting swabbed, and cannons secured to the decks. One pirate handed Thomas a crate filled with bottles, which he promptly handed off to another man, and ascended the stairs to the quarterdeck.

Edward stood behind the ship's wheel. "Do you remember our plan, Thomas?" The Welsh pirate asked of the Irish lad.

"Aye, sir."

"What is it?"

"Sail to the Bancroft plantation on Cat Island, neutralize any defenses, and pillage the warehouses. Also search the manor for any traces of the artifact. I am to accompany you ashore into the manor."

"Correct. Now, you'd best return the _Mary_. We sail once the _Jackdaw_ is ready."

"The _Mary_, Edward?"

"Aye. Last night Anne renamed the _Vanity_ after a dear friend of hers, Mary Reade. Now please, return to your vessel."

Thomas hastily departed the Jackdaw and climbed aboard his newly renamed schooner, the _Mary_. The name change was unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. The word 'vanity' did not compliment the name of a pirate vessel, or at least not this one. Her captain was much too humble.

On deck, John and the crew readied the ship for departure. Aldo, having found his way back aboard, greeted Thomas as he stepped on deck. "Good morning Thomas," The Italian cheerfully greeted Thomas. "I trust you slept well?"

"Aye. Did you?"

"I think so. Woke up in the brothel next to a pair of young ladies. How I got there, heavens knows."

"Drink has that peculiar effect, aye."

The _Jackdaw_ discharged a cannon. The shot, echoing off the cliffs, announced her intention to depart. Thomas immediately started barking orders. Under his direction, the gangway was hauled aboard, the mooring lines cast off, and a cannon fired. Returning the shot signaled the _Mary_'s intention to follow the _Jackdaw_.

"Loose mainsail!" Thomas commanded, taking the helm.

Both ships made sail, with the schooner following in the brig's wake. The two vessels smartly maneuvered around the anchored ships, out the harbor mouth, and into the open sea. Setting a northwesterly course, they made for Cat Island.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time both pirate vessels arrived. Standing near the _Mary_'s helm, Thomas recalled a chart that displayed Cat Island's geography. The island itself was roughly shaped like a boot. The Bancroft plantation stood along the island's southern shore, about where the boot's "heel" should be. There the land came to a peninsula, with the plantation's pier located on the peninsula's western shore. Through his spyglass, Thomas spotted lanterns illuminating a fortification erected at the peninsula's southern point. Anchored within range of the fort's guns was a frigate. Thomas assumed that she must be one of Bancroft's trade vessels, but dismissed that theory when he noticed cannon on her main deck. Royal bloody Navy! What the hell was she doing here?

Ahead, the _Jackdaw_ hove-to and doused her stern lanterns. Thomas ordered the same done aboard the _Mary_. He then instructed John and Aldo to ready the ship's rowboat. Per the plan of battle, John was to lead a team of men aboard the frigate and neutralize her crew. If they were detected, Aldo and the remaining crew would move in with the _Mary_ to assist. John slung a musket over his shoulder, bade Thomas good luck, and joined his shipmates in the boat, which then departed for its target. Shortly after they departed, another boat came alongside, this one carrying Edward Kenway and six of his crew. Thomas climbed down into the boat, and together the two captains made for their enemy's home.

The boat came ashore on a beach twenty yards south of the pier. After disembarking, the crew heaved the boat clear of the surf and anchored it in the sand. Thomas, Kenway, and the crew then took cover in a nearby patch of tall grass, from where Thomas surveyed the plantation.

The manor stood and the northern end, farthest from the fort. A short stone wall surrounded the manor. Nearer the shore was a wide wooden structure, definitely a warehouse. Four smaller wooden buildings - presumably barracks for the slaves and their overseers - occupied the center of the plantation. A windmill stood between the barracks and the fort. All around them were fields filled with sugar cane plants aligned in neat rows. Overseers carrying lanterns patrolled the pathways between the fields. Two men guarded the pier, looking outward towards the harbor.

Kenway advised his crewmembers to take the boat, go ashore closer to the warehouse, and begin pillaging it, advising them not to use their pistols unless they were fired upon. The six men departed to carry out the order. Kenway then looked at Thomas.

"Alright Thomas," he said softly, "it's time to move. Follow my lead and we'll get to the manor. Remember that stealth is vital."

Thomas nodded in understanding. The two men moved silently into the nearest field of sugar cane. A passing overseer, hearing the rustle of leaves, turned to investigate. Deciding it was likely just some island critter, he continued his patrol none the wiser.

Kenway and Thomas crawled through the sugar fields, halting when a patrolling overseer came close. Their slow pace turned minutes into hours. Dead plants snapped beneath their feet. To Thomas, each crunch of his boots sounded as loud as a musket shot. Finally they reached the wall surrounding the manor.

Thomas leaned against the wall beside Kenway, looking for entrances. Two overseers guarded the main gate. Taking that route, Thomas reasoned, would certainly lead to detection.

"Edward," Thomas whispered, "The main gate is blocked. We need another way in."

Kenway turned his gaze first at Thomas, then upwards. "Look to your left, then up," he instructed.

Thomas did so. It took him several seconds to spot what Kenway had. A tree, growing next to the wall, had a limb that extended into the yard. Climbing it granted access to the manor without passing through the gate. Another limb on the same tree stretched over the main gate. That was their way in.

"We'll both climb the tree. You enter the yard, while I neutralize the guards at the gate."

Both pirates hoisted themselves in to the tree. Kenway, a veteran climber, expertly maneuvered along the branch toward his targets, while Thomas struggled to keep his balance. Climbing masts was familiar, but a tree wasn't. Shuffling carefully onto the branch, Thomas took a second to survey the manor.

It was a two-story wooden structure, with exterior walkways on both levels. Lights dimly glowed through the first floor windows. A sentry patrolled the upper walkway, musket in hand. Just then, Thomas felt his boot slide free from the branch. With a yelp of surprise, Thomas tumbled out of the tree. He slammed on the soil with a thud, landing on his back. Leaves fluttered to the grass around him.

"Hey!" came a shout from the sentry, who raised his musket. Thomas lay frozen, staring down its barrel. Suddenly, the sentry swatted at his neck as if an incest bit him. He then dropped his weapon, and collapsed to the walkway, sound asleep.

Thomas, standing up and trying to ignore his aching back, looked in the direction of the gate. Kenway stood there, lowering a blowpipe from his lips and slinging it to his back. Thomas hadn't noticed the weapon until now.

Kenway assisted Thomas to his feet. "Alright lad, we've reached Bancroft's house. Now, to find that artifact."

"Or at something that'll lead us to it."

"Right. In we go."

The pirates sprinted to the manor's front door. Finding it locked, Kenway delivered a kick to the knob. The door swung inward, revealing an entrance hall. A doorway on the left opened to a library, while one on the right led to the dining room. Thomas led the way into the library. The room was piled with shelves, each stacked with volumes of various size and color. An exquisite sofa occupied the room's center. At the far end stood a mahogany desk and chair. Behind the desk, and between two windows, hung a portrait of an English Admiral. The Admiral sported white hair and short beard. His eyes stared coldly at Thomas. This must be Admiral Damion Bancroft himself.

Thomas immediately began rifling through the desk drawers, searching for personal letters. Edward pushed against bookshelves, knocked aside paintings, tugged at wall-mounted candlesticks, and pried at the floorboards. Clearly he was hunting for hidden compartments or passageways.

"Aha!" Kenway exclaimed at last. He drew one of his cutlasses and shoved it into a gap between two floorboards. One board came loose with ease.

The roar of a cannon sounded in the distance, followed by the crackling of musket fire. The boarding party was discovered! Hadn't Thomas warned them to be careful?!

"Thomas! Take out the fort!" Kenway barked. "I'll remain here and keep searching. Here, you'll need these." The Captain handed Thomas two of his pistols. "Now go! That's an order!"

"Aye aye!"

Tucking the pistols into his belt, Thomas ran out of the library and into the night.

He sprinted almost blindly across the dark plantation. Past the barracks, around the windmill, and finally to the fort, where he took cover behind a water well, catching his breath. Ahead of him stood a row of ten twenty four-pounder cannons, aligned neatly along the battlements. Gun crews, four to a cannon, tended to the weapons. Stacks of powder and ammunition sat nearby. The gunners all wore the standard uniforms of the Royal Marines. A lone officer directed the gun crews. The officer, Thomas decided, would die first. Without him the gun crews would lack direction.

Thomas carefully departed his cover and crept up behind the officer, who stood at the eastern end of the battlements. When the nearest cannon let fly, Thomas stabbed the man in the back with one of his sabers. The officer's body twitched as his spine severed, then fell loose. The pirate gently lowered the dead man to the ground.

"Intruder!" a voice yelled. One of the gunners had spotted Thomas. He and his crew abandoned their gun, drew short blades, and made to fight the pirate. Drawing his second saber, Thomas readied himself for combat. One gunner charged at him, but Thomas slashed the man across the chest. He fell screaming. Two more gunners swung their blades at Thomas together. The pirate dodged one blow, deflected the other, then finished both men with stab wounds. The fourth gunner was running to alert his comrades. It was a wasted effort. Already most had heard the melee and rushed to assist. A mob of twenty men now charged towards the lone pirate like a mob of uniformed, revolting peasants. Thomas raised his sabers, awaiting their steel, when a grenade landed at his feet. Glancing down at the explosive, he saw that the fuse still had several seconds left to burn. That gave him an idea. Acting fast, Thomas dropped his right saber, hefted the grenade, and lobbed it and the mass of men. The grenade landed next to a barrel of gunpowder. Thomas dove behind the gun carriage nearest him.

A pair of explosions tore through the night, sending wood splinters and metal shrapnel rocketing outwards. Men screamed pathetically as they fell to the fort's stone floor. The sound of footsteps dwindled as others stopped to assist their fallen comrades.

Thomas attempted to stand up, when a blow to his upper back forced him down again. He rolled left onto his back. A huge marine hefting a boarding ax stood over him. Thomas drew a pistol and fired at the man. The shot lodged in his assailant's right arm. The marine howled in pain and dropped his ax, which landed on Thomas' thighs. Ignoring the weapon, Thomas stood up, grabbed his saber, and pushed its point against the man's broad chest.

"Please," The man begged. "Mercy."

Thomas looked at the marine's bloodied face. His expression was one of defeat. All the fight was gone from him. "Very well," Thomas said. "Wait here."

Nearby, other surviving marines hoisted their hands in surrender. Around them lay the motionless bodies of fallen friends, their blood seeping onto the fort's floor. Thomas sympathized with the men. Losing friends in battle was never easy. Most men carried memories such as that for life. After recovering his second saber, Thomas instructed the remaining marines to wait where they stood. Per Kenway's order, the fort was now silent.

Thomas strode to the battlements' edge, observing the fight below. The _Mary_ and the hostile frigate were secured to one another, their crews battling for control of both vessels. Smartly, Aldo had chosen to bring the _Mary_ alongside the frigate's starboard side, using her hull as cover from the fort's guns. The sounds and smells of melee combat carried up to the fort. Off to the east, the _Jackdaw_ sailed toward the two vessels, eager to join in the fight. The frigate's stern chaser guns fired at the encroaching brig, but failed to stop her. The _Jackdaw_ came along the frigate's port side, her crew storming aboard the anchored warship. After another minute of fighting, the frigate's overwhelmed crew gave up. A white sheet was hoisted on her stern. A triumphant cheer carried out across the sea. The battle was won!

Thomas shouted "Huzzah!" and raised his fist in victory.


	5. Chapter 5: The Forsaken

Dawn rose over the scenic Cat Island. At the Bancroft plantation, all was strangely out of order. A huge pirate raid the previous night halted all regular work in the fields. Instead, pirates, slaves, and marines worked as one to repair the damage, and bury the dead.

Up near the fort, Thomas McNally respectfully layed an officer of the Royal Navy to rest beside his fallen marines. The officer was just one of many men who'd lost their lives during the battle. Thomas took care to ensure that each man was placed properly in the grave. After reciting a prayer over the deceased, the young pirate ordered the mass grave filled in. A group of black plantation slaves proceeded to carry out his instructions. Thomas then began walking alone towards Admiral Bancroft's personal manor.

Inside the manor, Edward Kenway was seated at the Admiral's desk, studying his letters. In the dining room, two pirates kept a watchful eyes on the manor's occupants. Among the occupants was a butler, a cook, three housemaids, Bancroft's wife Shannon, his daughter Jane, and Alexa Ericson, daughter of the schooner _Mary_'s previous captain. Not having decided their fate, Kenway ordered them secured in that room. They'd most likely be taken to Great Inagua, as hostages.

The sun shone through the windows behind Kenway, illuminating the parchment in his rough hands. The letter he held suggested that the artifact was no longer at the plantation.

Lord Bancroft,

Per your order, the relic is secure and away. The Assassins shall not take it from us.

My vessel shall patrol the waters to the South of Hispaniola. Should you have further need of my services,

seek me out there. You are always welcome aboard.

Sincerely, Your most humble servant, Captain Gerald Winston

Gerald Winston. Why did that name sound familiar? Kenway also noted that the letter failed to mention the artifact's location. The damn thing could be hidden anywhere.

Footsteps sounded. Thomas entered the library, his blue uniform splattered with blood. "The fort is secure, Edward," he reported. "Some of the _Mary_'s crew are holding new recruits there."

Kenway lowered the letter. "Nice work, Thomas. I trust you didn't have any trouble?"

"Quite the contrary. The fort was packed with marines. Defeating them all nearly killed me."

"You're still in one piece, aren't you?" Kenway motioned Thomas to join him behind the desk, which he did. "Read this letter, Thomas."

The younger pirate took Bancroft's letter from Kenway. His jaw dropped when he noticed the signature. "Captain Winston!" Thomas remarked in shock. "He was in league with Admiral Bancroft."

"To what extent, I wonder?" Kenway thought aloud.

"Maybe exploring the wreck of the _Prince_ will provide answers. The artifact might even be in wreck."

"The _Jackdaw_ carries a diving bell. Treasure hunting on that wreck won't be a problem. But first, we have other matters to attend to."

"Such as what, Edward?"

"Such as what to do with the tenants of this home."

Kenway stood up from the desk and strode into the dining room. Thomas followed close behind. The hostages were all seated around the room's central feature: a long, broad, mahogany dining table. While table accommodated sixteen guests, only half of the oaken chairs were occupied. The two men and six women sat silently, occasionally peering around at both their captors and each other. Looks of uncertainty and fear hung on their faces. Two pirates, both from the _Jackdaw_'s crew, watched over them. One hostage, a petite brunette girl no more than eighteen years old, tightly gripped her mother's hand.

Those two must be Bancroft's children, Thomas thought, noticing that their nightdresses were made from fine silk.

Kenway leaned over the end of the table nearest him, resting his hands on its cooled surface. "Good people, you have nothing to fear from us," He addressed Bancroft's family and household staff. "Our business is with Admiral Damion Bancroft."

The Admiral's wife stood up. "You invaded our home and slaughtered our staff!" she protested haughtily, pointing a finger at Kenway. "That is _not_ business!"

"Your husband, Mrs. Bancroft, has something we desire. And not just coin. Thus far, Admiral Bancroft is... reluctant to cooperate. Do you know where he's gone?

"No, pirate. And if I did know, I certainly would not tell you."

Ignoring her, Kenway eyed the seven other hostages. "Anyone else know where the good Admiral is?"

Silence.

"Very well." Kenway then straightened up and looked at Thomas. "Mr. McNally, allow Mrs. Bancroft and her daughters to change into outfits more suited for travel, then escort them down to the pier. The household staff shall remain here."

"Aye aye, Edward." Thomas then escorted the three Bancroft women upstairs to their dressing chambers.

"What about me?" the second young girl asked of Kenway. Unlike Mrs. Bancroft and her daughter, this young lady wore a cloth nightdress. Blonde hair hung down to her shoulders. Her youthful blue eyes had tears welling in them.

Kenway recognized this girl. One of the late Captain Ericson's possessions was a locket with her picture framed inside it. The Welshman went down on one knee before the child, placing a hand on her shoulder. He gently wiped a tear from her left eye. "Is your name Alexa Ericson?" Kenway asked soothingly.

"Yes, sir," she replied in a wavering voice.

"I knew you father. He was a good man, an honest man. Admiral Bancroft is a wicked man. Do you think your father would like it if you kept living here, in a bad man's house?"

"No, sir."

"Good girl. You're going to come with us to a new home. A better home. Now go and get dressed. You have a great adventure ahead of you."

As Alexa left the room, Kenway stood back up. "That was touching, Captain," one of the pirates commented.

"Thank you," Kenway said reflexively, and returned to the library. He drew a cutlass, and used its sharp blade to carefully remove Admiral Bancroft's face from his own portrait. The picture would help when it came time to ask around for Bancroft's whereabouts. Perhaps a local innkeeper or harbormaster had seen him, his troops, or his ships somewhere in the archipelago. Any bit of information helped, no more how slight.

Some time later Kenway, Thomas, Mrs. Bancroft, her daughter, Alexa, and the two _Jackdaw_ crewmembers all gathered at the plantation pier. The three women had changed into dresses with heavy petticoats. Lacking any proper sailing attire, Thomas advised them to wear the most weather-resistant clothing they owned. Despite his advice, all three women refused to wear trousers, believing such an act unladylike. One of the _Jackdaw_'s boats lay in wait on the beach beside the pier. After assisting their female cargo into the boat, the four pirates shoved off, manned the oars, and rowed away from shore. The little craft pitched lightly in the swells. Thomas took hold of the tiller. He steered them southeast, where three ships drifted.

One ship, a frigate named _HMS Steadfast_, was at anchor. Two smaller vessels were made fast to her sides, their crews making repairs and burying the dead at sea. The _Steadfast_ was an impressive vessel, painted in the standard yellow and black striped pattern of the Royal Navy. Her gun decks carried forty four cannon, one mortar, plus four swivel guns mounted on the quarterdeck's rails. The ship's figurehead proudly displayed the Royal Coat of Arms, flanked by two golden lions. Thankfully, both her rigging and hull appeared relatively undamaged from the battle. The _HMS Steadfast_, once a noble frigate of the King's navy, was now a prize.

Thomas steered the boat alongside the schooner _Mary_. As they approached, Aldo Gaiani greeted them from the schooner's deck.

"Thomas!" Aldo called, waving to his friend. "Welcome back. You missed a serious fight, my boy."

"I bet. You should've seen what happened up at the fort."

"We heard that blast from... Hey, who's that?" He'd spotted the three women in the boat.

"I'll explain later. Get us a ladder, please."

Aldo draped a pilot ladder over the schooner's side. The women, with some difficulty, managed to climb aboard. Once up on deck, Thomas noticed his crew was repairing the damage caused by the battle. A group of men worked on mending a section of the port side rail, which had broken thanks to a cannonball. Three pirates lowered a splintered spar down from the rigging. The sounds of hammer strikes and sawblades cutting reached Thomas' ears.

A second pilot ladder hung from the _Steadfast_'s main deck. Curious to explore this new vessel, Thomas ascended the fiber ladder. His boots then hit the deck. The situation here was much the same as aboard the _Mary_. Repairs were being made, loot divided up, wounds tended to, and the dead laid to rest. The survivors from the Steadfast's more loyal crew were on their knees, clustered around the frigate's mainmast. Several pirates kept watch on them. Such scenes were familiar to Thomas, having been involved with dozens of engagements aboard the _Prince_. Still, it was a rare day that pirates succeeded in defeating a Royal Navy vessel.

Behind Thomas, Kenway made his way up to the frigate's quarterdeck. He then stood beside the wheel, facing forward. "Listen up, lads!" he called out.

The work stopped. All heads including Thomas' turned to face Kenway.

"Today, we add a new ship to our fleet. _HMS Steadfast_ needs a new Captain. As our articles demand, we'll put it to a vote. Who wishes to command this ship?"

This was the opportunity Thomas had long awaited. A chance at his own command! The temptation, with all his youth ambition and vigor behind it, was impossible to resist. He stepped forward. "I do, sir!" he said with enthusiasm.

"All in favor of Thomas McNally, raise a fist and shout 'aye!'"

"Aye!" rose a collective shout from the pirates.

Kenway's gaze centered on Thomas. "Thomas McNally, the crew has spoken. You are now Captain of the _Steadfast_. What are your first orders?"

The newly appointed Captain looked around at frigate's crew. Most were kneeling around the mainmast in captivity. Only small number of the seamen had deserted to the pirates. He needed more personnel to properly crew this vessel. Remembering how he became a pirate in the first place, Thomas strode over to the captive navy men. He stood before them, back straight and hands behind him in a position of authority.

"Gentlemen," Thomas addressed the captured sailors and marines, "you have nothing to fear from us. Until this day, you have toiled and suffered, enduring great hardships with little in return. The brutal discipline has stung your backs, crushed your souls. Meager rations left your bellies empty and your tongues parched. Your pockets sat empty while the King's coffers piled high with gold. Life with the Navy has left you battered, broken, and defeated.

Aboard a pirate ship, you will find no such pain. Here we live as true men. We take what is ours, keep what we earn. Never are we without food, or without drink, and women await us in every port. Our lives are short, merry, and above all, _free_. Will ye sign on, lads?"

About twenty men stood up. Pirates walked over to greet them, shaking hands and even embracing their new brothers. Among the deserters was a junior officer, a Lieutenant by the looks of him, shook hands with Thomas. The young Captain graciously welcomed him to the crew. Ordering those who refused to join put ashore, Thomas joined Aldo and Kenway on the _Steadfast_'s quarterdeck.

"Great work, Thomas," said Kenway, shaking hands with the young Captain. "Congratulations on your new command. Aldo is now Captain of the _Mary_."

Thomas embraced his friend. "That's great news!" he exclaimed joyfully.

"It sure is!" Aldo said proudly. "My first ship. This day was long overdue."

"Glad it finally arrived."

"Aldo has orders from me," Kenway interjected. "He's to sail with the women to Great Inagua, then await our return. The ladies shall reside in my home."

"New playmates for Patrick?" Thomas asked, referring to the _Mary_'s former cabin boy.

"Indeed. Now Thomas, it's best you sail for Nassau and recruit more crew. But be careful; New Providence is a British stronghold. With this frigate, and your history as a midshipman, I trust you'll fit right in. Anne, the Jackdaw and I are sailing for Kingston. Meet us there once you're able."

"Aye aye, sir. I'll see you in Kingston."

"One more thing, Thomas. Your ship needs a Quartermaster. Who is yours?"

Thomas had the name in mind before it even left his lips. "John Cromwell," he said.

"Good. Now lads, we have our jobs. Let's get to work."

With that, the three ships parted ways. Lines snaked along decks, sails fluttered downward, and masts creaked with effort as the _Jackdaw_ and _Mary _caught the wind, setting southerly courses. Thomas ordered the _Steadfast_'s anchor hauled in and full sails set. The frigate's clean white sails captured the wind, fluttering as they were heaved tautly into place. With her rudder swung hard to starboard, she set a northwesterly course, her bowsprit aimed straight at New Providence Island.

Thomas stood on the quarterdeck beside the helmsman. He thought about improvements that his new ship required. The regal figurehead needed to go, for starters. A decoration more suitable would replace it. Now what of this frigate's name? The 'HMS' prefix no longer suited her, nor did the name _Steadfast_. She needed a title that complimented her new life as a pirate ship. _Revenge_? _No Quarter_? _Forsaken_? Yes, _Forsaken_! That name reflected the Royal Navy's (and possibly also God's) view of pirates as a whole.

From this day forth, _HMS_ _Steadfast_ was now the pirate ship _Forsaken_.


	6. Chapter 6: Pirate Hunters

The mighty pirate ship _Forsaken_ plowed her way through the salty Caribbean waters. Brisk winds tugged at her sails, while heavy swells splashed against the frigate's hull. No sun shone in the overcast sky. The weather had worsened in recent days. Thomas McNally, Captain of the _Forsaken_, knew that their stay in Nassau would prove a short one.

The northern harbor of New Providence Island was now directly ahead of the vessel. Fishing craft dotted the waters. Several ships, all of them merchantmen, sat anchored offshore. Certainly their crews would be alarmed if a pirate ship dropped anchor nearby. Therefore, Thomas had ordered the _Forsaken_'s original figurehead remain mounted on the bow, and her British Ensign flown aloft. Altering the ship's appearance to one more fitting of a pirate craft needed to wait.

Thomas stood on the quarterdeck beside his helmsman. Earlier he'd dressed himself in a complete naval officer's uniform, which he wore now. The uniform came from both Thomas' old midshipman's uniform, and one that belonged to the _Forsaken_'s previous captain. A gold-hilted saber and flintlock pistol completed the devious disguise. He also wore a heavy black cloak about his shoulders, for rain was likely. Under the guise of a military officer, Thomas should have access to all areas of the city, both civilian and military. Such freedom could aid the young pirate in his quest to locate Admiral Bancroft.

The _Forsaken_ entered the anchorage. Thomas ordered all sails hauled in, and the starboard anchor made ready. With a foaming splash, the ponderous anchor sank beneath the waves. Its wide fluke bit deep into the mud. Up on deck, the anchor line was made fast. Thomas called for the boats to get readied, all ashore going ashore. The pirates had made port.

Once the lead boat arrived ashore, Thomas met with his quartermaster, John Cromwell. A tall, burly, sometimes boisterous man, John was dressed in civilian attire, perfect for the job at hand. A boarding ax hung at his side.

"Alright John," Thomas instructed, "you know what has to get done. Get us as many recruits as you can but try doing so discreetly. Only turn the crew into a press gang as a last resort. We don't want too much attention."

"Aye aye, Thomas," John replied with confidence. "But what will you be doing?"

"Asking around. I need to know if Admiral Bancroft was recently here."

"Good luck with that. See you soon, friend. When you finish your business, the first round's on me."

John and several of his shipmates began strolling off towards the nearest public house, Thomas set off on his own. He first went to the harbormaster's office, asking if any Royal Navy ships had made port recently, other than his own. Indeed other naval vessels had visited Nassau, but only small patrol craft, not frigates or ships of the line. Thomas thought it unlikely that Bancroft would have any involvement with patrol vessels. Then again, Bancroft could have ordered increased patrols around the island. Dismissing this as a potential lead, he gave the harbormaster a shilling, thanked him for his time, and made his way to the taverns.

He entered the _Whiskey Wench_ public house near the center of town. The tavern stank of alcohol and sweat. People of all races - European, African, Arabian, even Asian - were clustered about drinking, gambling, and brawling. Making his way through the crowd and shouldering up to the bar, Thomas continued his search.

"Excuse me, do you know if an Admiral Bancroft passed through town?" Thomas asked of the innkeeper after buying a drink.

The innkeeper, a portly man with a bald head and beard, looked at Thomas. "An admiral? No. Sorry, lad." was his reply. "But if you're inquirin' about someone important, you'd best head to the governor's mansion. They might help ya. You're wearin' a uniform after all."

Thomas thanked the man, finished his drink, and took his leave. Having visited the manor once before, he already knew where he was headed. The manor stood at the west end of town, bordering a deep, broad swamp. Interestingly, that swamp was a popular hangout for smugglers, pirates, and other criminals. Strange that such a notorious location would border the most significant residence on the island.

The pirate captain approached the white, two storied, wooden structure from the east, up a dirt path leading to the front door. Two uniformed soldiers stood watch outside the entrance. As Thomas made his way up the path, another man emerged from the manor's front door. Thomas halted. The man immediately struck him as peculiar. He was wearing plain, unassuming attire, dressed like any common sailor who came ashore at Nassau. If one expected to have an audience with the governor (or his advisers), you would wear expensive clothes, suiting up like a member of the gentry. Having nobility openly meet with common men was extremely unusual. This demanded further investigation.

Thomas took cover in a ditch beside a pond to the northeast, just of out of view from the manor. When the suspicious man passed without noticing Thomas, the pirate began following the man's movements, shadowing him across town. The man followed a dirt path leading south, towards the beach. Thomas shadowed him from a distance, taking cover whenever he could. Finally the man came to a halt beside a beached rowboat. Sitting in the rowboat was another man, likely a shipmate or colleague. Thomas took cover behind driftwood log. From there, he overheard a conversation between the two men.

"Ah, Captain MacManus. Welcome back. What's the news?"

"Good news, Mr. Hepburn. We have been granted a letter of marque to hunt pirates in these waters. Even better, there is speculation that a pirate ship is anchored in the northern harbor."

"Sounds like we've got an easy prize on our hands, then."

"Indeed. We'll return to the ship now. Our first payday awaits."

The strange man shoved the boat off, climbed in, and the two began rowing towards a brig anchored in the harbor.

A letter of marque? Who had granted them one? The governor, most likely, but it mattered little. It was the mention of a pirate ship in the harbor that unnerved Thomas. Given the British government's hold on the island, no pirate ship would openly fly the black flag so close to shore. This all pointed at just one possible solution: the _Forsaken_'s disguise had failed. Thomas, the crew, and their ship, were all in danger. Once the rowboat was out of sight, Thomas left his cover and sprinted back north. It was time to depart from Nassau.

Thomas found John and several of the crew drinking inside the _Sailor's Rest_ public house. Taking a seat on the bench across from the quartermaster, the captain inquired about the crew's numbers.

"Oh, we've got a full crew now, Thomas," said John from behind a tankard.

"That's great, John." Thomas complimented. "Good work. But I've got bad news."

"What is it? Did the bar use up all the rum? That stuff's always gone, you know."

"Worse than that, John, and far more serious. Pirate hunters, in the southern harbor. They know we're here."

John dropped his tankard upon hearing this. "Are you sure?"

"Aye. One of them left the governor's estate carrying a letter of marque. We need to assemble the crew, depart for Kingston."

"Smart idea. This port's a bore anyway."

As the two pirates left the public house, a squad of five soldiers met them outside, muskets aimed at the brigands emerging from the building's safety.

"Weapons on the ground!" their sergeant demanded. "You're under arrest!"

Seeing no other option, Thomas and John lowered their weapons. When the sergeant stepped forward to make the arrest, Thomas grabbed the man's left shoulder, spun him around, and pulled the man into a headlock. A musket shot rang out. The sergeant cried out in pain. One of the soldiers had panicked and fired his weapon, accidentally hitting the sergeant. Pushing the bleeding sergeant's body at the soldiers, Thomas doubled over and picked up his both cutlass and pistol. John hefted his boarding ax, swinging the great weapon at the soldier nearest him. The blade caught the young man's head. He died without a sound. Another soldier thrusted the butt of his musket at Thomas' midsection, who dodged the attack and then stabbed his attacker in the chest. The final soldier charged straight at Thomas, his bayoneted musket ready to stab. Withdrawing the saber from his previous opponent, Thomas raised his pistol and fired at the charging soldier. He collapsed to the ground, bleeding and whimpering.

Ignorant of the cries coming from the townspeople, the two pirates made a break for the harbor, leaping over obstacles and knocking civilians out of their way. The ship's boats lay in waiting at the docks. Other members of the _Forsaken_'s crew, having witnessed the commotion outside the public house, rushed to join their captain. More of the crew found themselves in similar encounters, having to brawl their way past soldiers trying to arrest them. Finally the crew reached the boats and shoved off with both John and Thomas safely aboard.

"Make sail!" Thomas barked to the crew as they climbed aboard the _Forsaken_. "Weigh anchor! No time to vote on it! The King's dogs are after us!"

The pirate crew rushed to carry out the Captain's orders. The capstan was manned, the anchor hauled aboard, and secured to the deck. Up in the rigging, the sails tumbled down from the yardarms and expanded as they caught the wind. Thomas himself took the helm, steering the mighty frigate eastward out of the harbor.

Cannons sounded off to starboard. At first, Thomas thought the town's fort had opened fire. It was only a salute. The fort's gunners must not have been alerted to their actual identity. Relieved, Thomas ordered the salute returned.

Just then, the wind grew faster. The sky grew even more gray, and the swells grew taller. Thunder boomed off in the distance, with flashes of lightning illuminating the clouds. Rain began to fall heavily, drenching the ship along with her crew. Visibility dropped substantially, down to one thousand meters at best, making navigation increasingly difficult. Thomas ordered half sails set. Flying full sails in a storm might damage the rigging. They couldn't afford that.

Another ship, a brig by her rigging, appeared off to port. She was painted brown with broad, solid red stripe running fore-and-aft along her hull. The brig's sails were at half, with just the mainsails flying. Her cannons were run out. From her mainmast flew a blood red flag.

The sign of no quarter, Thomas thought as he recognized the flag's meaning. Her crew plans to kill every man aboard the _Forsaken_. That's not about to happen.

"All hands to quarters!" Thomas yelled over the storm's noise. "Some puppies want to play."

Battling the awful weather, the _Forsaken_'s fearless crew readied themselves and their ship for battle. Cannons were run out, powder kegs brought up from below, and ammunition made ready. Several cannonballs were placed inside fires; heating them created heavy shot. If the crew of the pirate hunting brig wished a fight to the death, then the crew of seafaring renegades aboard the _Forsaken _were thrilled to oblige.

The hostile brig turned to starboard, exposing her port side gun battery at the _Forsaken_. At the crest of a wave, she fired. The roar of cannonfire carried over the storm's racket. Cannonballs whistled over the _Forsaken_'s decks, punching holes in her hull and sails. At the helm, Thomas turned the frigate to port. He ordered the port battery to return fire as the brig fell into a trough. The superb timing of the pirate's broadside scored a direct hit on the brig, smashing her bowsprit and battering her hull. She then passed astern of the frigate, obscured from view by the rain.

More cannon sounded off to starboard. Facing the direction of the fire, Thomas saw that another ship had joined the fight. She was a schooner, bearing the same red stripe across her hull as the brig. From her mainmast flew the red flag of no quarter. She was coming about to starboard, trying to unleash her port broadside at the frigate. Before she could, Thomas ordered the starboard cannons to fire a volley. The cannons made a deafening roar as they fired, but the broadside came too late. The _Forsaken_ was in a trough when the guns let fly. Most of their shots plowed uselessly into the waves. Unhindered, the schooner completed her turn and fired on the pirate ship, striking her opponent's starboard side.

"Rouge wave to starboard!" a pirate shouted.

Thomas spotted the wave instantly. An enormous swell, towering over the _Forsaken_'s hull, had emerged off the ship's starboard bow. With its foaming white crest, Thomas knew that the wave would imminently break. If it broke on the _Forsaken_, the ship was lost. The pirate captain turned the wheel hard to starboard, preparing to meet the wall of water head-on.

"Brace yourselves!" Thomas yelled as the wave approached the frigate's bow.

The _Forsaken_ rose up at a steep angle (about 30 degrees), then cascaded down the rouge wave's far side. Not a single man was lost from her decks. The pirate hunter schooner, Thomas saw as he looked over his right shoulder, was not so fortunate. The rouge wave had crashed down onto her main deck, dragging the ship beneath the surface. Only debris and survivors remained on the surface. The schooner was out of the fight, and her crew dined with Davy Jones.

The brig reappeared off the port quarter. She had all her sails set, no doubt hoping to gain a speed advantage over her enemy. Her crew unleashed another broadside at the frigate, striking the pirate ship on the stern. One cannonball smashed a window on the captain's cabin, while another struck perilously close to the rudder, nearly jamming it. With the port guns reloaded, Thomas ordered another volley unleashed. The frigate's hull shuddered from the discharges, as did that of the brig from multiple impacts. Her mainmast teetered, rolled to the left, then crashed into the swells. Immediately the brig's speed dropped. Even with her mainmast gone, her rudder was still intact, allowing her to maneuver into another firing position. Thomas knew this, and likewise turned the _Forsaken_ to starboard. Such a maneuver risked exposing the ship to enemy fire, but Thomas and his shipmates needed to escape. Now was not the time for clever tactics.

The brig fell behind the _Forsaken_ and out of sight. She offered no further resistance, much to Thomas' relief.

A final hunter rose up like a ghost from the storm. A galleon, fully armed and flying the dreaded flag of no quarter, stood directly ahead of the _Forsaken_, her full starboard broadside aimed straight at the fleeing pirate ship. An awful din echoed off the waves as her gun crews opened fire. Holes appeared in the _Forsaken_'s hull and in her sails. Thomas made a hard turn to port, avoiding a collision with the galleon. The galleon began making a slow turn to port. As the frigate passed astern of the ponderous vessel, Thomas ordered a volley fired at her stern. The frigate lurched to port, and the hostile galleon shuddered. Windows on her stern smashed inwards, and her mizzenmast listed dangerously. The galleon continued to attempt her port turn, but to no avail. Though Thomas could not clearly see the damage, he knew that the galleon's rudder was now little more than kindling. A bolt of lightning struck her main topsail, setting it afire. The pirate hunters fell behind as the _Forsaken_ made her dash for safety.

Hours later, the storm finally died down. Winds died, rain ceased, and seas calmed. New Providence Island was nowhere in sight, nor were any pirate hunters. Thomas and his shipmates now had some time to rest. They wasted no time cracking open barrels filled with rum. It wasn't long before most of the crew was too drunk to work. But work could wait until tomorrow. Now was the time for celebration.

The _Forsaken_ had escaped.


	7. Chapter 7: Kingston

The morning after narrowly escaping from Nassau, Thomas paced across his cabin, wondering just how in God's name that the pirate hunters knew they were in the harbor. Not only did the hunters know about them, but so did the British. Had disguising the ship failed? Unlikely. The ship's general appearance hadn't changed much after the battle at Cat Island. Hell, the pirates hadn't even changed the nameplate on her stern. Did someone tip off the governor, or his second?

Then another possibility occurred to him. The Bancroft plantation was just one of many similar plantations on Cat Island. The inhabitants of another plantation, likely even the one right next door, could have sailed to Nassau ahead of the _Forsaken_ and reported the raid to the British authorities. For Thomas, this was the most plausible explanation. But if that was the case, the British would have attacked as soon as the _Forsaken_ came within range of Nassau's harbor defenses. The British response to their presence was delayed. It wasn't until the pirates were safely ashore that they attacked, along with the pirate hunters.

He dreaded to think that one of his own crew had sold them out to the British. Then again, that would explain the delayed response from the local garrison. But if someone had indeed betrayed them, who was it? Thomas considered that the likely suspects were sailors and officers who had been member's of the _Forsaken_'s (then the _HMS Steadfast_) original crew. Officers were far more likely to remain loyal to the Crown than any sailor. What about that young lieutenant Thomas shook hands with following the _Steadfast_'s capture? He was the only officer of the frigate's entire crew to join the pirates. That fact alone made him a primary suspect, despite the lack of solid evidence against the man. His name was Bertram Weschester. Actually, was Mr. Weschester even still aboard? Thomas did not recall seeing the man after the battle.

Furthermore, where was this ancient artifact that Bancroft had hidden away? Captain Winston's letter to Bancroft mentioned that the relic was "secure and away." Perhaps only Winston himself knew the artifact's location, and he was now dead. Had any volumes, records, or charts been salvaged from the _Prince_? Thomas would ask Kenway when he next got a chance, but feared that all of Winston's records were destroyed by the fires.

The cabin door creaked open, and Quartermaster Cromwell strolled in. "Everything alright in here, Captain?" he asked, noticing the concerned look on Thomas' face.

Thomas stopped pacing. "Everything is fine, John," was his reply. "But I've been thinking. Did Mr. Weschester report back aboard after we fled Nassau?"

"Now that you mention it, Thomas, I don't believe he did."

"Then we'll search the ship for him. If he's not aboard, then he'll be charged with desertion. And if we can verify his supposed loyalty to the Crown, he gets charged with treason as well. Now let's find the son of a bitch."

With that, Thomas ordered a deep search of the entire frigate, from the main topmast all the way down to the bilge. Every man aboard, drunk or sober, took part in the manhunt. Bertram Weschester was nowhere to be found.

The crew then held a meeting down in cramped quarters below decks. After reciting his suspicions to the assembled, Thomas called for a vote regarding the fate of Bertram Weschester. He was overwhelmingly branded a deserter. If the _Forsaken's _crew ever found him again, Mr. Weschester would end up marooned, left to die on a desert island.

Following that, the Sailmaker then unveiled the new jolly roger for the _Forsaken_. The black flag depicted a skeletal, sword-bearing pirate crushing a crown beneath his boot, representing the pirates' collective hatred for authority. It was met with cheers and drinks from the crew, including Thomas, who gave it his blessing. Here was an ensign that would fly with proudly above their vessel.

A week later, the _Forsaken_ made a brief stop at the Crooked Island fishing settlement to purchase additional supplies. While the frigate was anchored, Thomas humbly asked the ship's carpenter, Mr. Glover, to improve upon the regal figurehead. Glover chiseled the coat of arms off the figurehead's shield, and in its place carved a human skull. He then painted the shield black, and the skull white, matching the colors of the ship's ensign. The _Forsaken_ then completed her evolution into a pirate ship.

Continuing south, the pirates captured and plundered three merchant vessels, all of them flying English colors. Each ship carried a cargo of either rum or sugar. The loot taken from these vessels would fetch a fine price to buyers (legal or otherwise) on Great Inagua, and provide the pirates with some deserved pay. Unfortunately, spending gold needed to wait, for the _Forsaken's _next port of call was Kingston, Jamaica.

* * *

The ship sailed into Kingston harbor two weeks after escaping New Providence Island. As usual, the anchorage teemed with vessels of every shape and size, from the smallest dinghies to the mightiest ships of the line. Among the many vessels, Thomas noticed from the quarterdeck, was a familiar brig named the_ Jackdaw_. This could only mean that Kenway was aboard his ship, or somewhere in the city. Hopefully, Admiral Bancroft was somewhere nearby also. Locating Bancroft remained Thomas' top priority. Finding the Admiral meant discovering the artifact's location.

After learning from the_ Jackdaw_'s crew that Kenway and Bonny were both ashore, Thomas ordered the _Forsaken_ anchored. The pirate captain came ashore in the lead boat, followed by the quartermaster and bosun. With each man going his separate way, Thomas set out on his own in search of Captain Kenway. It did not take him much time to find his former shipmate.

Thomas found Kenway just outside of the harbor district. The _Jackdaw_'s captain did not have any weapons on his person, and was moving stealthily between buildings. Thomas guessed that he was likely pursuing a target. Best to approach him quietly, with due care.

Thomas made himself clearly visible to Kenway by standing between him, and an Italian man wearing a red coat, who was quite possibly Kenway's target. When the Italian rounded a corner, Thomas walked up to Kenway through the crowded street.

"Edward," Thomas said softly as he neared Kenway, "any sightings of the Admiral?"

"Mr. McNally," Kenway replied hastily, "I can't talk with you now. There's a small political function being held at an estate just north of the parish church. Wear your naval uniform, and you might be allowed in. Now leave."

While Kenway went off to continue pursuing his target, Thomas returned to the _Forsaken_ and changed into his officer's outfit. He then proceeded to the function Kenway had mentioned. After checking his saber and pistol at the door, Thomas joined the festivities. It looked like quite a party, with the guests all dressed in their finest outfits. A string band playing outside the gates, while servants laid out drinks and food on assorted tables. Nobility, wealthy merchants, dignitaries, and military officers all mingled about. Women idled about in conversation, amongst each other and with the men. Thomas recognized Governor Woodes Rogers amongst the guests, but no one else. He did notice two naval officers standing somewhat further away from the other guests. Finding their behavior suspicious, Thomas decided to eavesdrop on their conversation. He took cover behind a support column, just out of sight from the two men.

"So what does the Admiral have planned?" one officer asked.

"Not here, Ensign," the other replied, clearly superior in rank to the Ensign. "To discuss that, we need to talk elsewhere. Follow me."

The second officer, a Lieutenant, led the Ensign through town, with Thomas shadowing the two men from a safe distance. He followed them south, past the parish church, and through a commercial district. They stopped outside of a tavern, while Thomas took cover in a nearby bush.

"Okay Ensign," the Lieutenant continued, "these are our orders. We're to sail northeast, to the Virgin Islands. The Admiral believes that the artifact was buried by Captain Winston in a cave somewhere off Tortola, and that its location has potentially been compromised. We're to rendezvous with the squadron at the island, where we'll defend the artifact. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," the young Ensign answered.

"Good. Now before we return to the ship, I do believe that we were followed..."

The senior officer drew his saber and began walking in the direction of Thomas' hiding spot. The young pirate reached for his saber, but grabbed only air. His weapons were back at the party! With no alternative, Thomas waited until the lieutenant was within arm's reach, then pounced at the man.

Thomas leapt out like a jaguar from the bush, tackling the surprised officer. The Lieutenant dropped his sword as Thomas knocked him to the ground. The two men wrestled briefly until the Ensign struck Thomas on the head with his saber's pommel, knocking him out cold.

The Lieutenant climbed steadily to his feet, his uniform dusty from the struggle. He brushed off his jacket after standing up. "Good job, Ensign," he said with a smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Weschester."

"Anytime. Now, let's get this imposter to a prison cell."

* * *

Thomas awoke with a headache inside of the Port Royal prison. He'd been stripped of his uniform and dressed in rags. His was lying down on a cot made from straw. Regaining his senses, Thomas saw that he was alone in the room. It was little more than a cell, with three stone walls and an iron gate. The cell stank of sweat and urine. Footsteps of patrolling guards and the voices of nearby inmates carried along the solid stone corridors. One man asked aloud for a piece of bread. The guard passing by the man's cell told him to eat his own flesh if he wanted extra rations. This same guard, uniformed and hefting a musket, then stopped just outside Thomas' cell, and began unlocking the door.

"On your feet, scum," The guard growled in a familiar voice, "you're moving to a different cell."

The door creaked outward. Thomas rose to his feet. Standing to face the soldier, Thomas immediately recognized him.

It was John Cromwell, disguised as a British soldier.

Cromwell grabbed Thomas' upper left arm. "We're getting you out," John whispered into his captain's ear. "Suit up with this uniform and we'll walk to the shore." John then handed Thomas a bundle containing a soldier's uniform.

Once redressed in the disguise, John led Thomas towards the prison's exit. Toward freedom.


	8. Chapter 8: Escape

After distracting a pair of guards with thrown rocks, Thomas and John made their way out of the prison and to the shore. A lone rowboat hauled up on the beach awaited them. Together they shoved the craft off the sand, climbed aboard, and began rowing softly towards the anchored _Forsaken_. Night had fallen over the island of Jamaica. All was quiet and peaceful within the Kingston harbor. Ships tugged at their anchors, boats bobbed on the waves, and surf lapped away at the sandy shores. The noise of the swells masked the splashes created by the oars.

John was the first to speak. "Thomas, I've got some bad news," he said while heaving the oars.

"Is there any other kind?" Thomas asked sarcastically.

"The Brits are on high alert. Someone made an attempt on the Governor's life. Now they have the harbor blockaded. No ships allowed out, or in."

Thomas considered their options. Either wait for the blockade to get lifted, or make sail and utilize cannon. "So we fight our way out."

"Sir?"

"Time isn't on our side, John. Bancroft suspects that he knows the artifact's location. We'll need to make sail tonight in order to intercept."

"The crew won't be in favor of that, Captain."

"We have no choice. If we sit around and wait, we'll get discovered anyway. Then escape won't be possible."

"Guess we'll need to put it to a vote."

"Agreed."

Some time later, the rowboat came alongside the _Forsaken_, gently bumping against her oaken hull. John made the boat fast to a pair falls hanging from the boat's davit. Three members of the crew deployed a pilot ladder, then Thomas and John climbed aboard. All five men together hauled the rowboat aboard and secured it to the deck.

After changing out of the stolen uniform and back into his own clothes, Thomas called for a meeting down in the crew quarters. John got the crew awake and assembled. Since most of the crew had been sleeping just moments ago, the quarters were dark. Just a few small lanterns illuminated the gloomy deck. Thomas stood in the center of the quarters, with the crew ringed around him.

"Lads," the young captain addressed his crew, "we are in quite a predicament. Our enemy is on the move, while we're stuck in this harbor. British ships patrol the harbor and its mouth, and the fort's guns are ready to fire. But if we remain, the British will most likely arrest us, then hang us. We must depart tonight. Any objections?"

The Bosun spoke up. "How do we get past the fort, and the patrols?"

"Stealth, Mr. Flanagan," was Thomas' answer. "We'll make sail and ready for battle, all while using as little light as possible. No lights on deck. We make for sea by moonlight."

"Makes sense. But why ready the guns?"

"In case we're fired upon. Have the mortars ready, also."

"Aye aye, sir."

Thomas looked around at the assembled once again. "Any further objections? Aye. All in favor, raise your fist."

Nearly the entire crew hoisted a fist into the air. "Alright lads," said Thomas, "Let's haul anchor, make sail, and ready for battle."

The crew filed out of their quarters, extinguishing lights as they went. Thomas blew out the lantern in his cabin, then doused the stern lanterns on the quarterdeck. The only lighting out on deck came from the moon. Up forward, a group of pirates manned the capstan, heaving in the ponderous anchor. Men up in the rigging loosed the sails, which tumbled from the yardarms, snapping as they unfurled completely. Down on the gun deck, gunports were opened, cannons loaded and run out. Thomas sincerely hoped that they wouldn't need to fire a single shot during their departure, but it never hurt to use caution.

While the crew continued readying the ship, Thomas examined the harbor through his spyglass. No patrol craft roamed the harbor's interior, but two schooners patrolled the mouth. A frigate, anchored just beyond the Port Royal fort, barred any vessels from entering the harbor. In order to escape, the _Forsaken_ would need to deal with all four threats. The frigate obstructed their escape route, and the schooners could give chase, while the fort's guns were capable of doing a number on the _Forsaken_'s hull. In Thomas' eyes, it appeared that a fight was all but inevitable. The pirates needed to shoot their way out.

Thomas ordered the crew to set full sail. Every scrap of canvas the _Forsaken_ possessed was strung up on the rigging, from jib to mainsail to mizzensail. The sails all caught the evening breeze, and the _Forsaken_ began cruising at full sea speed through the harbor, dodging anchored vessels as she sailed past. The pirate ship's dark silhouette was clearly visible against the lights glowing from Kingston's streets. Aware of this, Thomas hastened to direct his vessel toward the cliffs west of city, away from the lights. But the action came too late.

Another ship, one of the British schooners patrolling the harbor's mouth, had noticed the _Forsaken_'s departure. From the pirate vessel's starboard bow, she now steered to intercept the rogue frigate. Thomas watched from the quarterdeck as the schooner closed to hailing distance, steering her bow to port in order to avoid colliding with the _Forsaken_.

A British officer stood on the schooner's bow "Attention crew of this vessel," he called through a megaphone , "this is the _HMS Intrepid_. You are attempting to depart from a closed harbor. Heave-to immediately, or you will be boarded."

Thomas ordered the helmsman to steer slightly to port, getting the _Intrepid_ square in the _Forsaken_'s broadside. He waited until the schooner was directly abeam before giving the fateful order.

"Fire starboard!" Thomas roared.

The _Forsaken_'s starboard cannons opened fire simultaneously, shuddering the ready and obliterating the surprised _Intrepid_. The din from the guns awoke many of Kingston's citizens. The fort's entire garrison was woken up as well. Cries of shocked and wounded men carried from the _Intrepid_'s deck, while her mainmast crashed like a tree into the harbor. The schooner's crew returned fire with a broadside of their own, but their six port cannons did minimal damage to the much larger _Forsaken_, which continued making a dash for the safety offered by the open sea.

"How do you like _that_?!" John shouted mockingly.

With the _Intrepid_ out of the fight, the second British schooner steered to intercept the fleeing pirate ship. Approaching with her opponent on her own starboard side, her crew fired a volley straight at the _Forsaken_'s bow. Three cannonballs smashed into the frigate's hull, one of which carried right through to the gun deck, killing a pirate gunner. Thomas ordered the bow chasers to open fire in response, which they did. The shots, unfortunately, went wide and missed their target.

The schooner banked hard to port, denying the _Forsaken_ a chance to ram her. As she completed her maneuver, something was tossed over her stern and into the sea. Thomas knew from prior engagements the jettisoned object was a 'fire barrel.' These barrels, filled with powder, rigged with a fuse and weighted at one end, would explode when the lit fuse burned up, damaging any nearby vessels. Thomas ordered a turn to starboard, aiming to avoid striking the fire barrel. He succeeded, but the _Forsaken_ came dangerously close to alliding with the cliffs. Only twenty feet separated the ship's hull from the rock faces when Thomas ordered a turn to port.

The fire barrel exploded off the _Forsaken_'s port beam. The blast sent a column of water into the air, but caused no damage.

"Good Lord!" Thomas exclaimed after the explosion.

"What was that, sir?!" the helmsman asked.

"Never mind! Just mind your heading!"

More cannon roared off to port. Turning in that direction, Thomas heard a cannonball whistle over the deck. Behind him the ball smacked uselessly into a cliff. More cannonballs landed in the frigate's hull, blowing holes in her timbers. A chunk of the quarterdeck's port rail was shot away, showering Thomas with splinters. He swiftly swung to the right, avoiding the sudden hail of wood. Where had all this fire come from? Certainly not from the schooner...

A mortar sounded nearby. The fort's gun crews had opened fire!

"Return fire on the fort!" Thomas yelled. He then pointed a finger at the enemy. "Fire mortars! Rain hell on 'em"

The port cannons opened fire, recoiling and belching smoke as they let fly. The mighty roar of cannonfire left Thomas momentarily deafened. Up forward, the mortar crews fired their weapons, launching two explosive shells high into the night sky. A second later, a pair of explosions appeared on the fort's ramparts. Fires broke out atop the walls. A powder barrel exploded, then another one next to it. A cannon was knocked free of its carriage. The flaming bodies of a few unlucky soldiers tumbled over the wall and onto the rocks below. The _Forsaken_'s crew let out a cheer in triumph.

"Keep it together, me trumps!" Thomas called as the cheering died. "We're not out of this yet."

And indeed they weren't. With one schooner out of the fight and the fort damaged, one more schooner and a frigate remained standing.

The second schooner was now off to port, within the safety of the fort's guns. She was steering northwest, close to the wind, likely trying to steer astern of her opponent. Doing so would allow her crew to fire upon the _Forsaken_'s stern almost unchallenged. Thomas wasn't about to permit that. The schooner needed to get stopped right away.

"Helmsman, rudder to port. Port gun crews load chain shot. Aim high!"

The pirate ship began turning to port. Down below, gun crews loaded their cannons with chain shot, then adjusted them to fire at a higher arc. A full volley of chain shot should stop the devious schooner where she floated.

"Fire!" roared Thomas. "Helmsman, midship rudder!"

Twenty cannons erupted all at once, sending their iron projectiles on deadly courses. The schooner shuddered as the chain shot struck home. Immediately her jib was torn free from the bowsprit. Both of the schooner's masts wavered violently, weakened by several impacts. The mainmast fell astern, then dragged the foremast down with it. The demasted British schooner came to a halt. With no propulsion, she began drifting dangerously towards Port Royal. Before she could go aground, however, the schooner's remaining crew smartly dropped anchor. Despite saving their ship, the British sailors had lost their enemy.

Another cheer carried across the pirate ship's deck. This was quickly silenced by more cannonfire, with this volley coming from starboard. The British frigate had weighed anchor and was now steering a southerly course, running parallel with the _Forsaken_. Thomas ordered some sail brought in, to keep the pirate ship from outpacing her opponent.

"Fire starboard!"

The starboard guns opened fire on the frigate. Twenty new holes appeared on the British ship's hull. Cannonballs rocketed through her gun deck, leaving shattered woodwork and bleeding sailors in their wake. Less than a minute later, the frigate fired another broadside returning the favor to the pirates. Thomas heard the cries of wounded and dying men carry up from below. One pirate up on the main deck was gruesomely torn apart by a cannonball. Another yanked a wooden shard from his arm.

Taking a glance through his spyglass at the enemy frigate's quarterdeck, Thomas spotted a familiar, hated face. The pirate captain's heart filled with rage as he recognized the man. Even in the dim moonlight, the man's identity was beyond clear.

Lieutenant Bertram Weschester.

Time to even the score, Thomas thought as he pocketed the spyglass.

Waiting until both ships were beyond the fort's range, Thomas ordered the helmsman to steer to starboard, with intent to board. He called for the boarding party to arm up, and for the gun crews to ready a second volley. This time he ordered the crews on the main deck to load grapeshot. Within a minute, the _Forsaken_ had closed to within hailing distance of the hostile British frigate. Thomas ordered the gun crews to fire a broadside, with this one doing tremendous damage. Grapeshot pellets flared out across the frigate's deck like shrapnel from an explosion, tearing flesh and severing through rigging. Men cried out pathetically as they died. Blood from bleeding sailors and marines seeped out across the deck, creating a slipping hazard. Such a hazard, Thomas knew, would do little to slow down a crew of bloodthirsty renegades.

"Give 'em a steely kiss!" Thomas shouted with bravado.

The pirate boarding party stormed over to the British vessel, striking down any man left standing on her main deck. They forced open a hatch leading to the gun deck, where a melee ensued. Cutlasses clashed and pistols fired as the crews fought.

Thomas, on the other hand, leapt boldly from the _Forsaken_'s quarterdeck to the enemy's. He nearly fell short of the enemy ship completely, just managing to grab hold of the rail. With great effort, the young man heaved himself aboard. He drew both of his sabers as he straightened up, looking for all world like a demon unleashed from hell. His eyes instantly spotted the face of Bertram Weschester.

"Traitor!" Thomas screamed at his former shipmate.

Another officer, likely the Officer of the Watch, charged at Thomas with a raised saber. Thomas deftly blocked the attack and sidestepped the man, who ran into the railing. He doubled over as he struck the rail. Thomas slashed him across the back, then shoved the hapless man overboard. The pirate captain then made a dash for Weschester, standing just aft of the helm. The Lieutenant had drawn his own saber. Thomas swung at Weschester with his right saber. Weschester, with his free left hand, caught Thomas' arm and headbutted the pirate, causing him to stagger. Weschester stabbed at Thomas, but he deflected the blow and kicked Weschester in the crotch. The Lieutenant crouched and groaned in pain. In a final surge of anger, Thomas stabbed his opponent in the stomach. Then he sheathed his sabers.

Thomas lowered Weschester to the ground. "Why, Bertram?" Thomas asked of the dying man. "Why betray us?"

"Because... you're all dead men walking," Weschester said weakly. "Criminals awaiting judgment."

"We're all doomed to die someday. What did Bancroft offer you? Land? Money?"

"Order. I've seen how this world is falling to chaos, where brigands like you roam free, not bound by any laws but your own. It's despicable."

"It's freedom. Bancroft is a Templar. He and his mates wish us all enslaved. Is that what you want for the world."

"If it keeps the peace... yes. There must be order."

Thomas stood up. "Keep living the dream," he said just before executing Bertram Weschester with his own saber.

The pirate captain stood alone on the quarterdeck, listening as the melee below decks continued. With the traitor dead, only Admiral Damion Bancroft stood between the pirates and their invaluable prize.


	9. Chapter 9: Gathering Storm

A seabird bobbed peacefully on the blue tropical waves. He did not remain long, as he noticed the hull of a ship about to crash down on him. The bird spread his wings and took off in haste.

The pirate vessel _Forsaken_ plowed through the waters where the oblivious seabird floated just moments before. Overhead, the frigate proudly flew all of her sails, which shone in the early morning sun. A jolly roger waved from her mainmast, instilling fear in all who laid eyes on it. About her decks, men worked, ate, drank, and slept. Those hard at work continued to repair damage inflicted during the engagement with the British vessels guarding Kingston harbor, while those sleeping inevitably awoke with hangovers. Rum did that to all who consumed the stuff, no matter his resistance to alcohol. Several pirates lost their lives the night before, alongside a great number of British sailors and marines. A few sailors deserted to the pirates, who were met with open arms by their new shipmates, much to their own surprise. Captain Thomas McNally ensured that the newfound pirates accepted the ship's articles before permitting them to sail aboard the _Forsaken_. Those that refused to go "on the account" were left behind on the crippled frigate, adrift without sails or rudder. They would get rescued, but their chance at a free life departed with the pirate ship.

Thomas, Captain of the _Forsaken_, paced about the ship, observing the crew's activities after taking an inventory of the cargo hold's contents. The stolen cargo from several previous raids, along with addition booty taken from the British frigate, still sat in the hold. Some cargo was getting saturated, especially crates and bundles stowed near the bilge. If the pirates didn't sell and discharge that cargo soon, it would prove worthless. Additionally, the pirates had fired off most of their ammunition, using up a great deal of gunpowder in the process. The pirate crew needed to restock on both once they next made port.

Thomas mentioned all of this information to Quartermaster Cromwell, who then asked where the _Forsaken_ should resupply.

"Great Inagua," was Thomas' answer. "we'll sell the cargo and refill our stores there. Besides, we're going to need allies if we hope to defeat Bancroft's squadron."

"Aye aye, Captain."

One week later, the frigate sailed into the harbor of Great Inagua. Three other ships were already anchored in the harbor. Standing on the _Forsaken_'s bow, Thomas recognized two of the vessels immediately. The first ship was the schooner _Mary_, captained by Aldo Gaiani, while the second was the imposing man o' war _Champion_. The remaining vessel, a brig named _Renegade_, was unfamiliar to Thomas. Though unnerved by her presence at first, Thomas remembered that no ship outside of Kenway's fleet would be permitted anchorage in this port. Therefore, the _Renegade_'s crew were loyal to Edward Kenway. Hopefully Thomas could persuade them to join in his nearly suicidal plan of attacking a Royal Navy squadron.

The _Forsaken_ maneuvered her way into the berth, with her crew heaving lines ashore as the ship approached. Men waiting ashore secured the lines while the crew heaved in, drawing the frigate's hull snugly against the wooden pier. The gangway then went ashore, followed by pirates carrying bundles of cargo in their arms. And so the unloading procedure commenced.

"Ahoy, Thomas," came a familiar voice.

Thomas leaned over the quarterdeck's port rail, and spotted Aldo Gaiani waving at him.

"Ahoy friend," said Thomas, returning the wave. "How are ye?"

"I'm well, thanks. You look no worse for wear."

"Aye. How are things here at the hideout?"

"Quiet since the action at the Bancroft plantation. Speaking of which, Mrs. Bancroft and her daughter are still living here."

Thomas had forgotten about her. "Good to hear, Aldo. Captain Kenway will be pleased."

Aldo then climbed aboard the moored _Forsaken_, making his way up to the quarterdeck, where he shook Thomas' hand.

"You've arrived just in time to see us off," he informed Thomas. "The _Mary_ sets sail tomorrow morning."

"Where?" Thomas inquired.

"Nowhere in particular, just setting out capture some prizes. Come back with a hold full of stolen cargo. The usual passage plan for a pirate ship."

"Aldo, that's good news, but I'll have to ask you to reconsider."

"For what reason, Thomas?"

"The Royal Navy. They're after something of immense power. Find the other captains and their quartermasters, then have them report to the Kenway mansion tonight. I'll explain everything there."

Aldo felt uneasy about Thomas' words, but he lacked any reason to doubt the former midshipman. After all, he'd introduced Aldo to a pirate's life in the first place; a life he'd grown to enjoy.

"I'll see it done, Thomas," Aldo confirmed.

"Good man. See you at the mansion."

Thomas departed from the Forsaken and made his way into the tavern beside the pier. After enjoying a tankard of rum, the pirate captain proceeded through town and up the staircase leading to the Kenway estate. He was greeted in the garden by Patrick, the _Vanity_'s former cabin boy.

"Thomas!" he exclaimed, embracing the pirate. "Welcome back!"

"It's good to be back," said Thomas as he knelt down and returned the embrace.

Patrick released Thomas, looking at the Irishman. "Where is Captain Kenway?" he asked.

"He's at sea, Patrick. Last I heard, he was sailing for Africa. Is Mrs. Bancroft still living here?"

"Yes. She's in the house."

Thomas stood back up. "Come on, Patrick. Let's go see Mrs. Bancroft."

Patrick led Thomas into the mansion's main hall. The hall featured a long dining table lined with chairs. Sofas and armchairs occupied two spaces within the same hall, one nearer and the other farther. Mrs. Bancroft sat quietly in one of the nearby armchairs. She rose to her feet when Thomas entered the room. The woman wore a green dress with matching shoes. Her neatly tied hair and clean skin suggested that she had been living comfortably at the mansion.

"Ah Thomas," she said as the young pirate approached her. "Is there any news on my husband?"

Thomas removed his tricorner hat. "I'm sorry ma'am," he replied, "but no. I haven't caught up with him yet."

"And what of Captain Kenway?"

"Sailing east, last I heard. How are things here? Are you and your daughters well?"

"We are, in fact. While I am not content living in a pirate port, life at Edward's mansion has been surprisingly comfortable. Our accommodations are sufficient, and the household staff are excellent at their work."

"I'm delighted to hear that. Truly. Now if you'll please excuse me, some old friends require my attention."

Leaving Mrs. Bancroft outside, Thomas returned to the front garden.

* * *

Later that same evening, Thomas and John were joined by Aldo and four other men in Kenway's office. Thomas stood behind the desk near the room's back end, while John laid out a chart of the Caribbean across its surface. After making sure the doors were securely shut, Aldo introduced Thomas to the four strange men accompanying him.

The first man, a tall Englishman with a weathered face, stepped forward. "Chris Pendleton," he introduced himself as he shook Thomas' hand. "Captain of the _Champion_. The lout over there is my quartermaster, "Bob Flanagan." Pendleton pointed to a short, stocky Irishman leaning in a nearby corner, who waved at Thomas.

A second pirate shook Thomas' hand. "Julien Renard," he said with broken French. "With me is Victor Hendrick. Victor is the _Renegade_'s quartermaster, and I her captain."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Thomas politely. "Alright, please join me."

The seven pirates all formed a ring around the desk, with Thomas at the center. Aldo looked around nervously, checking for any prying eyes in the windows. He returned his attention to the group once he felt sure that all was secret.

"Gentlemen," Thomas began. "Do you all know why you're here?"

Silence for a few seconds.

"Because the British aim to wipe us out?" Pendleton chimed in, not quite sure of his words.

"Yes," continued Thomas. "A Royal Navy Squadron, under the command of Admiral Bancroft, is hunting for an artifact that will grant them nearly unlimited power."

"What is the nature of this artifact?" Renard asked.

Thomas looked at the French captain. "It's ancient," he answered, "built by an ancient civilization millennia ago. While we don't know exactly how it works, what the relic does is allow one man, on his own, to enslave many others."

"Something that must be worth lots of gold," Hendrick commented.

"Indeed. We don't want the Brits taking the artifact, or the gold its worth. That gold should line our pockets instead. And to gain those riches, we'll need to stop Bancroft and his ships."

"Agreed." John added.

"How do you suggest we stop them?" Pendleton inquired.

Thomas pointed at the chart, his right hand hovering over the island of Tortola. "An attack," he asserted. "Bancroft will have several ships in his squadron, at least one man o' war. The rest are likely brigs, schooners and sloops. With all four of our vessels, we have a strong chance at defeating them."

The discussion paused. Thomas knew that his proposition was extremely risky, but he saw no alternative. A land search for the relic itself was not an option, simply because the pirates did not know its location. Stealth was not possible, either. The strong British presence would make retaining discretion far too difficult.

"Sounds like a huge gamble," Renard said with a hint of bravado. "The _Renegade_ shall sail with you."

"Excellent," Thomas commented. He turned to Captain Pendleton. "What of the _Champion_?"

Pendleton remained quiet for a second. "Before I answer," he said, "What about the distribution of prize money?"

Thomas answered his question. "The profits made from captured cargo shall get divided between each of our vessels. Shares awarded to each sailor will be distributed as per your ship's articles."

"And the artifact itself?"

"Sold off for additional gold."

A faint smile appeared on Pendleton's lips. "The _Champion_ joins this endeavor."

Thomas looked around at the company. "Then we are decided. Our ships sail for the Virgin Islands, eliminate a British squadron, and capture a powerful relic."

Six heads nodded in agreement.

"Very well, gentlemen. You are dismissed. Tomorrow we make for sea."

Pendleton, Renard, and their quartermasters filed out of the room, along with Aldo's quartermaster. The door creaked shut behind them. There was a metallic clank as the door's metallic latch locked into place.

Aldo and Thomas stood alone, facing each other from across the desk.

"Do you truly believe you can defeat Bancroft?" Aldo asked of his friend.

Thomas scratched his head. "I don't know, Aldo," he replied honestly, "but I'm sure as hell going to give it my best shot."

Aldo drew a knife, then forcefully drove the tool into the chart. The blade stuck out from the Virgin Islands.

"We'll finish this," he reassured Thomas. "It's time for Damion Bancroft to get what's coming to him."


End file.
